Nineteen Reasons…
by Emrys MK
Summary: At King's Cross, 19 years after Voldemort's death, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod wasn't the result of a sense of obligatory politeness—there were 19 reasons for that nod. Stop b/f epilogue for happy ending
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 1/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 1,400  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: Sexual situations in future chapters, possibly adult language, and angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

On 01 September 2017, At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod, and each of them enriched Draco's and Harry's lives a bit more than the previous, so that by the time of the curt nod, the two men had forged a relationship that neither time nor marriage could destroy.

**Reason Number One**:

He ran.

Funerals, tears, eulogies, goodbyes that would be forever: it was all too much.

"_Fred Weasley died young, yes, but he died fighting for a just cause, and you can all take comfort in that…._"

No. How could anyone take comfort in that? Would the loss be any less meaningful had Fred or any of the others not died fighting for a _just_ cause?

No.

Fred and the others had died. It didn't matter why or how. All that mattered was that they were gone, and they weren't ever coming back.

"Harry!" Ginny cried out as she tried to catch him. Her voice was thick with emotion, but as she continued to yell, her voice became weaker, and eventually stopped.

Harry ran faster. He couldn't face her; he didn't want to face anyone. This was all his fault. Had he not returned to Hogwarts, Fred would still be alive.

The steady, light rain that had served as a fitting backdrop for the four funerals during the past two days now began falling with a vengeance and hit Harry in the face as if he were being stoned with a million tiny rocks; perhaps he was: it seemed fitting. God, Merlin, whomever had a say in what went on up there — if anyone did — could be reminding him that he had done a bad thing, and that requital would now be required.

Harry ran, and ran, and ran until his legs could carry him no further, then he collapsed in the wet grass and allowed himself to cry for the first time in three days. He hadn't shed a tear in public, and he wouldn't, because no one wanted to see Harry Potter, their _hero_, fall apart. He had finally rid the world of Voldemort — he was their very own David, and people wanted him to be happy, because they were happy.

Had these people who wanted him to celebrate with them ever lost anyone close to them? Had they ever seen the life run out of someone? Had they ever been the reason someone they loved died? Had they sat through four funerals in two days and not allowed themselves to show any emotion?

It wasn't fair. None of this should be happening. Why hadn't he been the one to die? He had been prepared — he had walked into the Forbidden Forest ready for Voldemort to kill him. His father had told him they were proud of him, and his mother had stayed close to him as he had walked to his impending death. He had confronted death, and he had faced a fear unlike any that he had ever known. He hadn't wanted to die, yet he was prepared and had made his peace with the inevitability.

So why had he lived? Yes, there were reasons, and Harry was aware of many of them, but that made little difference as he looked up into the darkened, rain-filled sky and shook his head as the rain pelted his face. Why had they died and why had his life been spared?

"Potter?" called out a rough voice, whose footsteps were becoming more pronounced with each passing second.

_Bloody brilliant._ It would have to be Malfoy who found him, in the midst of what any male would consider an unnatural show of emotion. Harry wiped furiously at his eyes, then stood and turned as he tried his best to glare. Malfoy stood inches away, and he didn't look at all happy. If anyone had to come after him, why… why, did it have to be Draco bloody Malfoy? "What are you doing here, Malfoy? Aren't you and your parents off to celebrate the demise of the _Dark Lord_? I heard your mother trying to console Andromeda, and she said the three of you were off to Spain after the funeral." Harry again wiped at his eyes, trying to rid himself of any proof that he was human.

"Yes, we are about to leave, Potter. It wasn't my idea to come fetch you. My mother sent me after you. Everyone is worried about you," replied Malfoy in a very un-Malfoy-like manner that resembled concern.

"Oh? You are worried about me, are you?" Harry asked, his voice a much higher pitch, his cadence not at all normal to his ears. "Well, don't be. Why don't you go back to your mummy and daddy so the three of you can go off to Spain and laud the wizarding world's great fortune of finally being rid of _Voldemort_." Harry began walking back toward the cemetery and tried his best to ignore Malfoy, whose footsteps were closing in on him. Obviously no one was going to leave him alone, so if that was how it was going to be, then so be it. If it was a happy Harry everyone wanted to see, then that is the person they would have. He stopped and plastered a smile onto his face, then turned toward Malfoy. "It is so good to know that six years of animosity can be overcome because your mummy sends you after me. How very sweet of you to care." Smiling was taxing while Harry felt completely deflated and upset, but that is what they wanted so…

"You are such a drama queen, Potter. Grow up. I am sorry that your life has been manipulated as it has. It is unfair, but it is not _my_ fault. Do you think I wanted to follow you and bring you back? No, I didn't. I knew that you needed to get away, and I thought that was the right thing for you to do, but the Weasleys are worried about you. They just buried their son an hour ago, yet they are worried about _you_. My mother saw and heard their worry, and she asked me to come see how you were. You are not the only person who is grieving, Potter."

Harry's fake smile faltered and he shook his head. "Did I say I was the only one grieving, Malfoy? I don't recall making such a statement. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to everyone since I have worried them needlessly," Harry said with as much vitriol as he could muster, which wasn't a lot by this point. He began to walk again, but he knew Malfoy hadn't quite finished with him, and when Malfoy stepped in front of him and crossed his arms across his chest, Harry knew he wasn't going to escape hearing what Malfoy had to say. He began to shake, and opened his mouth to say something, but he was too angry to speak, so he closed his mouth and waited for what Malfoy had to say.

"My aunt died, Potter. I didn't know her very well, but my mother has lost a sister, a sister whom she loved. For as long as I can remember, my mother has been the one to care for me and she has seen to my needs. For the past four days, I have had to be the one to see to my mother's needs. I have had to get her to eat; I have had to sit with her for hours as she sits there and stares at nothing; I have had to watch my mother and father pull away from one another because my mother blames my father for getting us involved with Voldemort, even though it was my mother's father who got her and her sister involved." Draco paused for a few seconds and shook his head sadly as he turned toward the cemetery. "So quit acting as if you are alone; you're not," were his parting words.

Malfoy walked away, and when Harry eventually made his way back to the cemetery, the Malfoys were gone. He hugged Ginny when she approached him, but his thoughts were of the words Malfoy had spoken. As completely mad as the thought was, Harry wanted to run after him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 2/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 1,645  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: Sexual situations in future chapters, possibly adult language, and angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Two**:

With one final look at the parchment that lay open on the podium, Draco cleared his throat and looked out over the large gathering, which included a few of his former year mates: Goyle was standing off to the side, looking aloof as ever, and a smug-looking Pansy sat beside Marcus Flint in the second row. Draco couldn't help the small sigh that escaped at the sight of her: Out of everyone, it was Pansy who had disappointed him the most — he had thought, or hoped, that the two of them would marry and carry on the Malfoy name, but any possibility of that had ended on 01 May of the previous year… but that was not anything he wished to think about today: He had a speech to give.

When McGonagall inclined her head, so did he, then he took a deep breath and allowed his eyes to peruse the crowd once more: Potter and his entourage had arrived.

"Hello. My name is Draco Malfoy. Professor McGonagall asked me speak to you today, but she failed to inform me that I would be following Professor Slughorn." A small smile, which no one would be able to discern, appeared on his face as he looked over his shoulder at the former Potions master. There were murmurs in the crowd — many of them no doubt understood what Draco was referring to. "My words will not be as eloquent as his, but neither will they be as lengthy." There was laughter from a few audience members, which helped to ease Draco's nerves as he began reciting his speech.

"Professor Severus Snape was my Head of House, Potions master, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and headmaster. You all know his story by now, so you know that he saved my life. I made some bad choices, as did my family, and Professor Snape is the only reason I am alive today." Draco paused — he had planned to go straight through the speech without stopping, but he changed his mind, thinking that it would be the proper thing to do: Professor Snape would tell him to pause at the natural break. Draco looked around the room, wishing for this to be over with. He didn't wish to be reminded that one of the only people, other than his mother and father, who had seemed to care for him, was now dead. Severus Snape deserved to be here today.

Draco opened his mouth to begin speaking again, but found himself momentarily unable to articulate what he wanted to say as he watched Potter turn away from the Lovegood girl and look at him. It was impossible to read him, but Draco's memory returned to the previous May when the two had spoken in the cemetery….

Someone clearing their throat from behind brought him back to the present. He gave a small nod — only Potter would know it was for him — as he prepared to continue. "I am aware that I am the last person who should be standing here speaking to you today. My parents were followers of Voldemort in 1981, and my father returned to him in 1995. I can't say what my father's or my mother's beliefs were or are, but I do know that I wanted to be like my father, so I, of my own volition, decided to do whatever I could to get into Voldemort's good graces. Little did I know that my life meant nothing to him: I was a means to an end, and had it not been for Severus Snape, I would have become another victim.

"Many of you probably wish I had become another one of Voldemort's victims. There is nothing I can say to change your perception of me, and I don't wish to do so. My only objective today is to honor my former professor. He deserves this honor that the Ministry is bestowing upon him, and as uncomfortable as I am standing here in front of all of you, there is no place else I would rather be.

"Professor Severus Snape meant a lot to his Slytherins, and we all thank you for this. It means more than any of you can imagine that someone whom we looked up to is being recognized as he is. Not many people spared many positive thoughts about anyone who was sorted into Slytherin, but Professor Snape saw something in each of us. Each year, as the first years entered the common room, Professor Snape would sit them down, then he would proceed to speak privately with each one, giving them some bit of advice, and more often than not, his words were ones of comfort to frightened students. If you'll indulge me for just a few seconds more, I wish to share with you what Professor Snape said to me that first day when I entered Hogwarts as a young, immature first year in 1991. He knelt down so he was on my level, looked into my eyes, and this is what he said: _'Draco, we do not always get to become friends with those whom we would wish to, but if you look around you, you will find that, in most instances, there are friends to be found, and, if you wait and are patient, the one whom you sought might one day become your friend.'"_ Draco allowed his eyes to travel to where Potter stood, and saw that he was conversing with Wood. Typical — Potter couldn't be bothered to wait until the speech was finished before he started talking. "Thank you."

Draco folded the parchment, then walked to his chair and sat down. There were three other speeches, then finally, it was over, and he was shaking Kingley Shacklebolt's hand. It was a terse exchange, but that was no less than what he had expected.

His obligations complete, Draco left the Ministry, intent on returning home; his mother and father were going on holiday, and he wanted to see them before they left.

"Malfoy, a word?"

Hands in his cloak pockets, Draco slowly turned around and frowned at Potter. "McGonagall said she asked you to speak. Why didn't you? Professor Snape didn't only save my life. Does that not matter to you, Potter?" As he waited for a response, he didn't miss Potter's glance over his shoulder, toward Lovegood and Wood. Word had it that the two were engaged, which Draco found difficult to believe. Wood could have anyone, so why would he want to be with Luna Lovegood? Draco had expected Potter and Lovegood to end up married with a brood of odd children.

"Not that you would believe me, Malfoy, but I chose not to speak today, because I thought that you deserved this day for yourself," was the matter-of-fact response that Potter gave, his expression serious.

And just how was Draco supposed to respond to that? He withdrew a hand from his pocket and tucked a stray hair, that was trying to find its way into his mouth, behind his ear as he tried to think of a proper retort. "How very thoughtful of you," replied an uncertain, and somewhat sarcastic Draco. Potter seemed genuine, but this Potter didn't exactly match up with the Potter whom Draco had known. It was more than a bit disconcerting. "So what do you need to speak to me about, Potter? I have somewhere I need to be."

"This won't take long. I just wanted to say that I no longer wish to be your adversary. We've been through too much this past year to continue acting this way around each other." Harry ran a hand through his hair, seeming as uncertain of himself as Draco was.

Draco nodded as he stuck his hand back inside his pocket. There were worse things than being cordial to Potter. They would never be friends, nor would their future involve afternoon teas or evenings at the opera, but Draco had to acknowledge that being non-confrontational from now on with Potter might not be a bad thing. "What you say is true. We are no longer students, Potter, and we need to act like the adults we are. I am amenable to us ceasing this… whatever it is that we have forged between us over the past six years." Draco tried to keep his face impassive, but wasn't at all confident that he was succeeding. He could feel his right hand in his cloak pocket, and it itched to inch its way out, but he wasn't going to be spurned again — the memory of the first time still stung.

Potter smiled. "You gave a good speech."

Draco nodded his thanks. "I should go. My parents are leaving on holiday, and I wish to see them before they go."

Potter's smile disappeared and was replaced with a much more pensive look. "If your mother ever needs anything, anything at all, Malfoy, let me know. I'm aware of the Ministry's treatment of your parents, and, while I understand and agree with them, there isn't much that I wouldn't do for your mother to make her life easier."

Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath before re-opening them. Eight months earlier, he would have bristled at such a statement from Harry Potter, because it would have been a jab about how the Malfoys couldn't care for their own. Now, however, Draco thought he was perhaps a bit more mature, and he most definitely now understood the difference between perception and reality, and was aware of what was and wasn't in his control. Draco felt his right hand as it slipped out of his cloak pocket, and he watched it as it made its way to Potter's. Draco held his breath the entire time, and only released it when his hand was safely ensconced inside his pocket again. He turned to leave, but turned back toward Potter, curtly nodded, then Disapparated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 3/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 1,870  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: Sexual situations in future chapters, possibly adult language, and angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Three**:

A nearly smashed (perhaps the _nearly_ was wishful thinking) Harry stepped out of the pub into the blustery, winter night and wrapped his cloak more tightly around him as he yawned and prepared to Disapparate. It had been an exhausting evening, and he couldn't wait to climb into his bed and fall asleep, even if it wasn't even close to midnight yet, a fact which everyone had reminded him of as he'd prepared to leave. The irony and all-around _wrongness_ of his being nineteen, yet not wishing to stay out late, was rather humorous. It wasn't that he didn't like going out and having a few drinks — he did — but there was absolutely nothing fun in a night out where most everyone got pissed to the point where they couldn't speak coherently, which is exactly what had happened this night.

It was the night before Neville and Hannah's wedding, and Harry and Ron had planned this pub crawl for Neville's last night as a single bloke. Part of Harry felt bad for leaving early, but most of him couldn't be bothered to care. In truth, other than his friends, there weren't many things Harry truly cared about these days. The past three years had changed him forever.

When he reached the alleyway, he prepared to Disapparate, but heard an odd noise that didn't sound normal: on cold, wet nights, there were often stray Crups and kneazles that walked up and down the alleyways, whining for someone to take them indoors, but this was not the moan of an animal — this noise seemed to be coming from a person.

As much as he wished to ignore the noise, he wouldn't: being an Auror made certain actions a given, even if said actions didn't exactly fall within his job description.

He retrieved his wand and followed the soft moans, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. He knew that he should probably send his Patronus to Kingsley, or go back and get Ron before he went any further, but he had never been one for following procedures in the past, so why begin now? He turned a corner and knew he had discovered the origin of the moans: there was an area of pavement covered in what looked like cardboard boxes and newspapers. He approached, warily, and moved the boxes and newspapers with his foot, and uncovered a beaten Lucius Malfoy lying on his back.

Within half an hour, the Malfoy patriarch was sleeping in his bed at Malfoy Manor, and Harry was seated in the kitchen, drinking some horrid concoction that Narcissa Malfoy had given him.

"Mother says that you should stay here tonight; it is late and you are in no condition to be Apparating anywhere," Malfoy said as he sat across from Harry and reached over and took a biscuit from the plate that was in front of Harry.

Harry took another gulp of the grayish muck that reminded him of Polyjuice Potion, and closed his eyes. He did feel better, but his head continued to feel as if it were about to explode. When he re-opened his eyes, he looked at Malfoy. "How is your father?"

"He'll be okay; they didn't rough him up quite as bad this time."

Harry set down the goblet and frowned. "This has happened before?"

"Yes, but you know what the Ministry thinks of my father; they'd probably say he deserved it, so we just don't say anything," replied Malfoy, nonchalantly, as if he were resigned to this new way of life his family now lived. Then he took another biscuit and stood. "I'll be reading in the sitting room."

Harry took a bite of the biscuit he had picked up, and watched as Malfoy left the kitchen, then shoved the remainder of the biscuit in his mouth and washed it down with the last of the drink. Grimacing as he swallowed, he had to admit that the headache was not quite as bad now. Instead of wishing to bang his head against the wall, he now merely wished to climb into bed and sleep for the next eight hours.

When he finished, he joined Malfoy in the sitting room and stood by the fire, warming his hands.

"So are you going to take my mother's advice and stay here tonight?" Malfoy asked.

Harry didn't want to — he thought he was now well enough to Apparate home, but he knew he shouldn't take the chance. It wouldn't do for him to splinch himself or end up dead the night before Neville's wedding. Harry stifled a laugh that the image of a splinched-Harry Potter conjured. "Yeah, I think I will." Harry turned and faced Malfoy, and noticed how tired he looked. He didn't much resemble the pompous, aristocratic boy he had been not so many years earlier; he appeared much more subdued, almost as if he were resigned to his fate, and it did not at all seem proper to Harry. As much as he had loathed Malfoy back in school, at least that person had been confident and unyielding in his beliefs. Harry knew that the changes Maloy had gone through were not so different from his own changes. Time and circumstance sometimes mattered more than personal preferences, as Harry was now finding out. Perhaps Malfoy had come to the same conclusion.

"If you're ready, I'll take you to my guest bedroom."

Harry nodded and followed Malfoy.

"There are flannels and towels in the bathroom cupboard, and you'll want to use the loo that is nearest the room I am taking you to. The one on the other side of the bathroom is not working properly. I think there is a pair of pajamas in the top drawer by the bed that you can borrow. If you need anything, my room is across the hall," Malfoy said as he ascended the staircase.

Harry again nodded as his eyes scanned the massive surrounding rooms. He couldn't even begin to imagine what growing up in a home such as this would have been like, but he certainly thought it would have been fun to find out. Once inside the spacious bedroom, he looked around in awe: it was huge and opulent: the room was as large as the sitting room, and its canopy king-sized bed, as well as the other furniture in the room, looked to be antique and expensive. There was a fireplace with an ornate mantel that had a portrait of Malfoy, as a toddler, above it, and a mural of storks and baby wizards covered the wall opposite the bed. Harry grinned.

"This was my nursery. Mother refused to allow me to change the décor, so I am afraid all of my guests have had to be scarred by these images."

It wasn't bad at all, and Harry thought it rather sweet that Malfoy's mother wanted her son's former nursery to remain as it had been when he was a baby. Harry often wondered what his nursery had looked like. "It's not so bad. I have to be at Neville's by ten, so I'm probably going to leave early. Would you rather I use the Floo or Disapparate?"

"You can use the Floo; there is Floo Powder in that silver bowl," Malfoy replied as he looked toward the mantel.

Harry nodded and yawned. "Thanks for letting me stay."

Draco nodded. "Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm going to have a shower, then go to bed."

"Me too. If you need anything, just knock on my door. Er, thanks for bringing my father home."

There were several questions Harry wanted to ask regarding Lucius Malfoy, but Malfoy had made it clear that he didn't wish to speak about what had happened to his father. "Your father is not my favorite person in the world, but he doesn't deserve what they did to him tonight. I hope he's going to be okay."

"Yes, he will be fine. Well, I guess I'll see you later. Goodnight, Potter."

"Goodnight, Malfoy."

Thirty minutes later, after a hot shower, Harry climbed into the huge bed. He knew he'd not remain awake for more than a few minutes.

Someone was yelling. A sleep-deprived Harry sat up in the bed and tried to remember where he was, and why he wasn't in his own bed. It all came back to him, and it occurred to him that perhaps it was Malfoy who was yelling. Harry looked at the pillow where his head had been lying seconds earlier, and he wanted to reclaim that position, but the yelling was going to keep him up, so he might as well go see what the source was.

He left the guest room with his wand and walked across the hall, and could hear that it was most definitely Malfoy who was yelling. Harry tried to open the door, and was surprised that it opened. He lit his wand and approached the bed, where he could see that Malfoy was turning back and forth, flailing his arms as he continued to yell, saying something about fire. He was still asleep.

Harry sat on the bed and shook Malfoy's shoulder. "Wake up, Malfoy, it's only a dream; there is no fire. You are in your bed at your home. It's only a dream."

"Crabbe, no," said Malfoy, his voice now softer, but his face contorted into a look of terror.

Harry shook him again. "Come on, Malfoy, wake up; it's a dream." Two grey eyes opened, and Harry saw the terror in them. "Shh, it's only a dream." Harry moved some of Malfoy's hair away from his face. "Just a dream, Draco." A lone tear began to fall down the pale-white face, but Harry wiped it away, then he moved away a bit of blond fringe that was matted against Malfoy's forehead. "You're safe." Harry didn't know what he should do. Should he get Malfoy's mother? He made a move to get off of the bed, but Malfoy grabbed his arm and shook his head, then closed his eyes.

Not knowing what else he could do, Harry decided to lie down next to Malfoy. "I'm not leaving. You can go back to sleep now." Harry felt uneasy, and he knew that had Malfoy been awake and cognizant, that he would be mortified to know that Harry Potter was comforting him; then again, had he been those things, then Harry would not be trying to comfort Malfoy. Embarrassing as it was, Harry wouldn't leave Malfoy alone.

When Harry heard Malfoy's breathing even out, he put out his wand light and tried to go back to sleep, but found it difficult. Malfoy's nightmare had been upsetting to listen to, and Harry wondered how often he had them, and when he did have them, if anyone came to comfort him and tell him that he was only dreaming.

For months, after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry'd had horrific nightmares. Hermione, Ron, and he had shared a flat then, so Hermione had been the one to settle him down after the nightmares. Unfortunately, it didn't seem as though Draco had anyone to do the same for him, and that bothered Harry.

He opened his eyes and watched Draco sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 4/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 3.465  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: Sexual situations, possibly adult language, and angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Four**:

A wet, naked, cold, and frustrated Draco sighed and glared at the window as he exited the bathroom. How was he supposed to shower and dress if his mother, father, and persistent owls continued to interrupt him? He threw his dressing gown on the bed and continued drying his hair with a towel as he walked toward the window, opened it, and retrieved the parchment from the white eagle owl that he had become familiar with over the past several months.

After shutting the window, Draco's eyes perused the handwriting on the front of the parchment, and he couldn't help but grin and shake his head. Even if the owl hadn't given away who the parchment was from, there would be no doubt as to who had sent it: Potter had the messiest writing that Draco had ever seen; it resembled the scrawl an eight-year-old might produce… on a bad day. Draco pointed his wand at the parchment: it opened and revealed that no Dark charms had been placed on it.

As curious as he was to read what Potter had written, a shivering Draco looked down at his body and frowned as he noticed that his cock seemed to be shrinking. Perhaps he should finish drying off and then dress before he did anything else.

Ten minutes later, a warm and dressed Draco sat on his bed to read the letter from Potter, but he heard his father's footsteps ascending the stairs, so he quickly closed the parchment and hid it under his dressing gown — no need to anger his father unnecessarily.

Potter's letter safely hidden, Draco pointed his wand at the door, and his father entered a few seconds later, appearing much more like the Lucius Malfoy of old, rather than the defeated-looking man that had taken up residence in Malfoy Manor for the past three years. Draco thought that the change was remarkable, and extremely encouraging. Perhaps the meeting at the Ministry had not gone as badly as they had feared it might.

As if his father had heard his son's thoughts, a smirk overtook his face, which could only mean one thing. Draco visibly relaxed. "They've decided to give you a job, have they?" he asked, trying — and not succeeding — to keep the huge grin from his face as he watched his father sit in the chair by the fireplace. No one else might ever spare a positive thought for Lucius Malfoy, but Draco loved him and wanted him to do well.

"Yes. They agreed that it would be prudent to have me working with, rather than against, them. I am under no illusion that anyone truly wishes me to be there, mind you. Potter no doubt had something to do with this."

Yes, Potter had been the reason his father now had a job — not that Draco knew that for a fact, but his father had been unemployable for the past three years. Draco studied his father's face; he wondered how his father felt about Harry Potter being the only reason he could now find work. "And how do you feel about Potter being your benefactor, so to speak?"

"Believe me, Draco, it gives me no pleasure to know that I am now indebted to Potter, but, like you and your mother, I must admit that he has used his name well in the past few years. I rather feared that all of the adulation would go to his head."

As had Draco, but he had been pleasantly surprised at just how ardently Potter seemed to detest his fame. "He doesn't want any of the adulation. If he could, I believe he would go into hiding and try to forget about who he is," Draco replied. His father's questioning look made Draco wish he hadn't said that last bit aloud. If his father ever found out how he felt about Potter… well, he'd more than likely not be at all happy. Draco understood — he wasn't exactly thrilled about these feelings he had developed for Potter.

"You and Potter seem to have become rather close over the past few months. It is none of my business who you spend your time with, Draco, but you do know where your future lies, yes?"

Draco hid his frown as best he could, and nodded. It was impossible to forget what the future held for him when his mother reminded him of his eventual marriage to Astoria on a daily basis. If not for the fact that he wanted a son more than anything else, he would not be going through with this, but he did, therefore, this arranged marriage really was for the best.

No matter how high a price he'd have to pay.

"Very good. Miss Greengrass is a lovely young witch, and she will make a lovely addition to our family. Don't forget that she and her mother will be dining with us for supper."

Draco had to make an effort not to groan, and he did allow a frown to show; the mere thought of having supper with Astoria sent him into a mild panic. "Tell Mother I will be home for supper," was Draco's forced response as he stood. He had been in such a good mood an hour earlier, but now it seemed as though everything was closing in on him.

"Don't look so devastated, Draco, the wedding is at least three or four years away if I know you, and I do. Enjoy your time, son, just do not forget where you will end up," was his father's response. He then gave Draco a small smile before he left the room.

Draco shook his head as he closed the door. Had his father just given him permission to pursue Potter? He then fell onto his bed and retrieved the parchment, deciding that he'd rather not think about his father giving him permission to do anything of a sexual nature.

_Draco –_

I recall you mentioning that you would like to meet and get to know Teddy. He and I will be spending the day together and we would be happy for you to join us. You don't need to reply.

Harry

Draco set down the letter and looked out of the window: the lone peacock that had survived the last three years was strutting across the lawn. Draco grinned, but the grin soon morphed into a frown.

If only life were that easy for him.

He had accepted long ago that he wished Potter and he could be more than friends. That realization had come to him the morning that he had woken up and seen Potter sleeping next to him. Draco had lain there, staring at him, and when Potter had opened his eyes, he had stared back at Draco. They had lain there like that for several minutes, and Draco had been seconds away from leaning over and kissing him, but a knock on his door had prevented him from doing so. When Potter had prepared to leave a few minutes later, he had made a move to step closer to Draco, but Draco had backed away. Now he wished he would have allowed Potter to do whatever he had been going to do; there might not be another opportunity.

They had written each other several times, had forged a tentative friendship, and there had been vague inferences on both ends about them being more, but that was as far as it had gone.

Both knew that the other would end up with a wife in a few years, so it really would be irresponsible for them to begin any form of a relationship; they should stop this before it began — unfortunately, it was too late for that.

Retrieving his cloak, Draco walked downstairs, told his mother that he would be back by half-five, then went outside to Disapparate.

He appeared in the play park and had begun walking toward Potter's flat when he heard the unmistakable tenor voice calling his name. He turned around and smiled when he saw Harry (Draco tried not thinking of him as Harry, but it was impossible) holding Teddy. It had been ten months since he had last seen Harry, and he looked just the same as he had that morning, a thought which Draco forced himself to push into the back of his mind. When Teddy waved at him, Draco waved back.

Nymphadora's child looked eerily like the toddler in the portrait that still hung in Draco's former nursery: his skin was pale, his hair was blond, and he had the Black facial features. Of course, Draco knew that Teddy was a Metamorphmagus, but he had the idea that the little boy he was looking at had been born with the features he now wore.

Draco walked toward them and watched as Harry whispered in Teddy's ear. Harry looked at him, and a huge grin broke out across his face, which caused problems for Draco — he wished he were wearing robes rather than trousers. Why did this have to happen, and why did it have to be Harry Potter who did it to him?

"Hi, Draco," said the grinning three-year-old, then he turned his head away.

Draco was impressed that Teddy talked as if he were six rather than three. "Hi, Teddy," Draco replied, smiling at Harry, and wishing he weren't. Why couldn't he act disinterested? It was as if being in Harry's presence rendered Draco unable to continue his Malfoy-ish ways. It was disconcerting.

"Hey, Draco, we're glad that you could come; we're going to have a picnic," Harry said as he set Teddy on the ground and motioned for Draco to join them.

"Can I go slide, Harry?" asked Teddy as he be began running toward the slide, which was only a few yards away.

"Yes, but no more trying to be Superman, okay?"

"Yes, sir." Teddy climbed the few steps and slid down, or tried to — he got stuck near the bottom. "Slide!" was the toddler's response as he moved his legs up and down as if that alone would carry him to the bottom. "Harreeeeeee — the slide won't slide!"

Draco tried not to laugh, but couldn't help it. The look of incredulity on Teddy's face at the sheer audacity of the slide not to slide was both hilarious and adorable. "Will he let me help him?" Draco asked, not wanting to upset or frighten Teddy.

"Probably," replied Harry as he turned toward Teddy. "Will you allow Draco to help you slide?"

Teddy nodded, so Draco walked to the slide and helped him slide down, then he helped him slide down at least ten more times before Harry told them it was time to eat.

As Draco pried Teddy from the slide, which was no small feat, and carried him over to the blanket that Harry had spread out, he thought that this was the most fun he'd had in a long time, and as he sat down and grinned at Harry, he thought he could so easily live this life every day. It was such a surreal realization — in his twenty-one years, Draco had rarely shown anyone the person that lived beneath his scowl and biting words, but for this one person, Draco thought he might do anything.

"Teddy adores you, Draco. He's rather shy, so it's impressive that he has taken to you so quickly," Harry said as he handed Teddy a plate of fish and chips and set a cup in front of him. He then handed Draco a plate that had baked chicken and mashed potatoes on it.

"Thanks," Draco said as he took the offered fork and knife, "for all of this. It means a lot that you would allow me to meet Teddy and spend time with him." Draco took a bite of mashed potato and grinned when Teddy smiled at him, a piece of fish in his mouth.

"You are a part of his family, Draco, and he needs to know you. Andromeda has never been against you getting to know him, but she was afraid of your parents' influence on him, I think, so that's why she has resisted for so long." Harry poured more juice into Teddy's cup and handed it to him, and received a "thank you" for his efforts.

Draco wanted this life. He couldn't wait to have children… but that would mean that Astoria would be his wife, and that wasn't anything Draco wished to think about at the moment. "I don't think I blame Andromeda for how she felt, but she has nothing to worry about. My father has no interest in Teddy, and my mother realizes that she'll never be a part of Teddy's life. While we are speaking about my father, I need to thank you for your help in securing him a job at the Ministry." Draco accepted the fish and chips that Teddy offered him, and saw that Teddy was eyeing his mashed potato. Draco looked at Harry and raised his brows in question.

Harry nodded. "Just one bite, then eat what's on your plate, Teddy." He then looked at Draco. "No thanks are needed; your father has paid his debt to society."

An hour later, as Harry carried the blanket and food, Draco carried Teddy into Harry's flat and laid the sleeping toddler on Harry's bed, then placed pillows around him so he wouldn't fall on to the floor. After placing a kiss on his cousin's forehead, he joined Harry in the sitting room, and when Harry motioned for him to join him on the sofa, Draco did, but he was nervous, and thought this might not be the wisest decision.

"So what do you think of Teddy?" Harry asked as he turned his body toward Draco.

"He's nothing like I was as a child, thank goodness. Andromeda's done a really good job with him." Draco took a breath, then turned so his body faced Harry, and felt as if he were crossing some invisible boundary. "Do you see him often?"

"Every Saturday since he was born. That little boy is the reason that I didn't completely lose my mind three years ago. I know we've talked about this in our letters, but after Remus and Fred died, it was like a part of me died, and I just couldn't see what the point was in living. But Andromeda gave me a good talking to and made me see that Teddy needed me. I think I owe her as much as I owe Teddy."

Draco nodded. He remembered how forlorn Harry had been at the funerals. "Yeah, when I saw you at Fred's funeral, you were not at all yourself, but as you know, when my best friend died, I refused to talk to anyone for two weeks. Death does things to people, and we're never the same after. My father got me through that rough time by being patient, and it worked. He can be a cordial person when he wants to be," Draco added as an afterthought.

"I think I can see that, even if he has never been near that to me." Harry grinned. "Your father said something rather odd as he was leaving the Ministry: He told me that Astoria Greengrass and her mother were going to dine at Malfoy Manor tonight, and the way he said it… it seemed as if he were warning me to stay away. Er, does he know that we've been exchanging letters?" Harry asked, looking somewhat worried as he ran a hand through his hair.

So this was how it was all going to come out. Draco felt a shiver run through his body. He had known, from the moment he arrived, that sooner or later he and Harry were going to have to talk about what was happening between them. As nervous as he was, he tried his best to keep his voice steady. "I believe he probably does, and I'm fairly certain that he also thinks you and I are more than friends." Draco watched Harry's face, and several emotions seemed to be warring with each other. Perhaps that bit of information should have been kept to himself.

"And what do you think, Draco?" Harry asked as a small smile appeared.

Draco watched Harry toe off his shoes and curl up on the sofa, and felt as his cock began to twitch in response. There was no doubt that Harry was leaving the next move to him. This game was about to morph into something much more, and Draco could only hope that he was making the right decision. "I think my father knows me well." Not exactly an admission, but near enough.

Draco then crawled over the few inches that separated them, and kissed Harry as he straddled him. Harry didn't return the kiss for a few seconds, but when he did, Draco deepened it for a few seconds, then lifted his body so that Harry and he could lie on their sides and face one another, which was not at all easy on the sofa, but they managed. Once they were settled, Draco began kissing Harry again, and then began exploring Harry's body with his hands, and was rewarded with the neediest moans, which seemed to call out for Draco to do more, which he did. As he was about to sit up and remove Harry's shirt, the garment disappeared, along with Draco's, and the two spent the next few minutes giving each other love bites. Then they were kissing again, and Draco knew that he wanted this forever. The kisses were not greedy, like the ones he and Pansy had shared; these kisses were soft, tender, and felt more perfect than Draco could have imagined. When he pulled back, he smiled at Harry, whose eyes were closed. "I know we can't do much else because of Teddy, but I want you to know that I want to be with you, Harry."

Harry opened his eyes and grinned. "I have a guest room. Teddy should sleep for another hour," he said before pulling Draco down for another kiss, this one more greedy.

A few minutes later, as they were about to enter the guest room, Teddy began to cry, and Harry shook his head. "I shouldn't have said he'd sleep for another hour," before leaning against the wall and looking at Draco sadly.

Draco grinned. "Go tend to him; he is upset and shouldn't be left alone." As he watched Harry disappear into his bedroom, Draco leaned his head against the wall. This could be a dangerous thing that they were doing, but Draco didn't care. Reluctantly, he walked back into the sitting room and retrieved his shirt; there would be nothing else, of a sexual nature, happening today.

At four, Draco reluctantly said he had to go. Harry didn't say anything, and walked outside. Draco frowned; he didn't want to leave, but he had no choice. He retrieved his cloak and was about to leave when Teddy tugged on his leg. Draco grinned at the boy and hoped that one day he'd have a little boy just like Teddy.

"Where are you going, Draco?" asked Teddy as he tried to pull Draco into the sitting room.

"I wish I could stay here with you and Harry, Teddy, but I can't." Draco knelt so Teddy could look into his eyes. "I've had fun today."

"Me too. Will you come see me and Harry again?" Teddy asked as he lifted his arms toward Draco.

"Of course, I will," Draco answered as he lifted Teddy into his arms and hugged him. They walked outside and saw that Harry was leaning against one of the trees. Draco set Teddy down and approached Harry. "Thanks for today." Harry leaned back into him, and Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and held him for several minutes. Neither said anything as they listened to Teddy play, but there came a point when Draco could not put off leaving any longer. "I've got to go."

Harry turned around and nodded. "I know how things are going to end for us, because I know that we both want something that we can't give each other, but we don't have to end this now. I want as much of you as I can have."

All Draco could do was nod, and then he placed his hands on either side of Harry's face and leaned in to kiss those lips again. This time, Harry didn't return the kiss. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Draco and hugged him as if he were about to be physically dragged away. Draco held Harry to him and closed his eyes as he ran his fingers through Harry's hair.

Yes, the price was going to be high.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 5/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 2,430  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Five**:

Two weeks and two days after he and Draco had admitted their feelings to one another, Harry was in his office, trying to make sense of a folder filled with what appeared to be code-filled parchments, when an inner-office memo flew into the room and landed on his desk. As this was a daily occurrence, and the memos were more often than not, not of a serious nature, Harry glanced toward the memo, but decided it could wait. He needed to finish examining the parchments that Kingsley had sent to him before he did anything else. His attention returned to the contents of the folder.

"Harry, read the memo," said Hermione as she entered his office, her voice, strained. "It's about Draco," she added as she sat across from his desk.

At the mention of Draco's name, in such a strange tone of voice that Harry rarely heard from Hermione these days, Harry's internal alarms went off — there was something very wrong. He looked up so he could see Hermione's face and couldn't miss the pensive expression. "What has happened?" Harry asked as he set down the folder. He tried not to sound or appear too desperate, but he was, and he wasn't fool enough to believe that this fact would escape Hermione's notice. She was aware of the friendship Harry had forged with Draco; she had no idea, however, how far the friendship had progressed, and Harry hoped that she never would. She would more than likely understand, but Ron, not so much. Therefore, Harry had to be careful not to sound overly anxious around her. The last thing he wanted to do was have Hermione keeping secrets from Ron.

"You need to read the memo," was her only response.

Harry retrieved the memo with a shaky hand and opened it.

_Harry,_

Please come to the house as soon as you are able. Draco has been in an accident. We are not making this public because… well, you know why. I tried to reach you in your office, but was unable to get through, so that is why I contacted Miss Granger.

Narcissa Black Malfoy

Harry folded the parchment and sighed as he tried to rein in his panic. Why had he closed his Floo connection earlier? He had known it was a bad idea, but he'd decided to close it because he had been meeting with Kingsley and hadn't wished to be interrupted. "What did she say to you when she gave this to you?" asked Harry as calmly as possible.

"That it was important that you get this, that it was about Draco, and that I shouldn't make this public. I could tell by her voice that it must be something bad. I assume I was correct?" replied Hermione, her eyes scrutinizing Harry's demeanor, no doubt.

Harry stood and walked over to the sofa and retrieved his cloak. "Yeah, I think so, but she didn't say what happened. I've got loads to do today, but I've got to go see how he is. Could you tell Ron's dad that I'll be back as soon as I am able? And if Kingsley wants to know if we can meet this evening, tell him that we'll have to wait until tomorrow morning."

"Yes, I'll tell both of them. Harry, not that I want to pry, but this thing between you and Draco is more than mere friendship, isn't it?" Hermione asked as she stood and walked to the door. She turned back toward him and gave him a weak smile.

Why did she have to ask? There was no possible way that Harry could answer her truthfully, so he did the best he could and merely shrugged his shoulders. "I'll Floo you and let you know when I'll be back." He watched Hermione nod and leave, then he grabbed a handful of Floo powder, threw it into the fireplace, and said, "Malfoy Manor."

He stumbled out of the fireplace into the sitting room of Malfoy Manor, and was somewhat disconcerted to see Lucius Malfoy seated on the sofa, frowning as he set down a parchment he had been reading. He did not look at all happy. He was no doubt concerned about his son, but Harry knew there was an added reason for the elder Malfoy's dour countenance: Draco's father tolerated Harry, but that was about it.

"I see my son has given you clearance into our home," were Lucius Malfoy's terse, soft-spoken words of greeting. "My wife is with Draco now; he is not at all well. Mr. Potter, no matter that you have indeed helped our family, and I will be forever grateful for your assistance, I do not wish for you and my son to be friends. However, seeing as how the two of you are friends, and that he seems to not want anything to do with Miss Greengrass, perhaps your presence will help him. If you are able to do so, then you'll have my gratitude."

Harry had no idea how to respond, but he did know that Draco's father was being serious, and that he was trying, in his way, to be cordial. "What happened to him?"

"My son tried to remove his Dark Mark this morning; needless to say, he did not succeed, and the attempt has left him with a magical deficit. He has not responded to either his mother or me."

Fear flooded Harry. "I am going to see him now." Draco's father gave him a curt nod, then returned his attention to whatever he had been reading when Harry had entered.

When he reached Draco's room, Harry knocked on the door and entered when Draco's mother asked him to do so. The only light came from the glow of orange, yellow, and blue-ish flames emanating from the fireplace, and Draco's mother sat beside her son's bed, running her fingers through his hair. Draco, what Harry could see of him, didn't look well at all: his left arm was wrapped, and it looked to be quite swollen; his face was covered in a sheen of perspiration, and his breathing sounded labored.

Harry couldn't help the hitch in his breathing. Draco had to be okay. Narcissa looked up at him, and Harry looked in between her and Draco, and had one of his momentary bouts of overwhelming sadness: Whenever he had been ill, growing up with his un-loving relatives, he hadn't had a mother to care for him and sit by his bedside. Draco was indeed fortunate.

"A family friend, who is a Healer, will be coming over this evening to examine him. I apologize for calling you away from work, Harry, but I was desperate, and thought you might be able to help. You seem to have a way with him that neither my husband nor I have," Draco's mother said as she gave him a half-smile.

"He is not in danger is he?" Harry asked, worried about how bad Draco looked.

"I don't believe so. He has lost a great deal of his magic, and that is what concerns his father and me the most. If he begins to get worse, we'll take him to St. Mungo's. Otherwise, we'll keep him here. I am going to try to get some sleep; do you mind sitting with him for a while, or do you have to get back to the Ministry?"

Harry did need to get back to the Ministry — Mondays were always busy days, but Harry wasn't leaving, not now that he was here and had seen Draco. "I can stay as long as you need me to. Is it okay if I use the Floo? I need to tell Hermione and the others not to expect me back."

Ten minutes later, Harry returned, and Narcissa left. Harry watched Draco's chest rise and fall, then removed his robes and climbed into the bed beside him. "I love you," whispered Harry before he placed a kiss on Draco's warm forehead.

He awoke when someone shook his shoulder. It was Draco's mother, who was smiling at him.

"My husband is about to come in here, and it would probably be best if you were not lying next to Draco when that happens."

Harry nodded and promptly removed himself from the bed. Despite his past actions, he did not have a death wish.

"It might be best if you come back in a few hours, Harry. By then the Healer would have come and gone, and my husband goes to bed early, so you wouldn't have to worry about him."

Four hours later, Harry again climbed into the large bed, but this time he wrapped his arms around Draco and spooned his body. "Please wake up, Draco," Harry said seconds before he lowered his head and kissed Draco on the lips. He then returned his head to his pillow and began running his fingers through Draco's hair. He should be talking and trying to get Draco to respond, but there was nothing to say, not really. The Healer had said that Draco needed to get his rest and that he would wake when his body was ready.

"Harry?"

Harry opened his eyes to see whose raspy voice had called his name; he was groggy and unsure where he was, but he smiled as he looked into Draco's open eyes. "You're awake. How are you feeling?" It was a stupid question. Harry ran a hand over Draco's forehead and moved the perspiration-laden fringe away from his eyes.

"Not at all good. I am afraid I rather horribly messed up this morning. I was attempting to remove my Dark Mark, but failed, and removed a large portion of my magic, instead. It is likely that the magic I lost is gone forever."

Perhaps losing magic was bad and upsetting for Draco, but all that mattered to Harry was that Draco was alive. "I was so afraid that you wouldn't wake." Harry sat up and faced Draco. "Are you thirsty?" When Draco nodded, Harry got out of the bed and poured a goblet of water, then helped him drink it. He then climbed back into the bed and propped himself up beside Draco and began running his fingers through the blond hair.

"How long have you been here?" Draco asked Harry as he leaned into Harry's touch.

"Since about eleven. You should have seen your father's face when I fell out of the Floo. He was not at all happy to see me, but he did say that he hoped I could help you." Harry grinned when Draco did the same, but both of their grins lasted only a few seconds, and Harry watched as Draco turned his head and looked toward his cupboard, then looked back at him.

"Yes, I am guessing my father is not very happy with me at the moment. The only thing I recall about what happened is that I started having these horrible pains in my side, and I began to scream. Father was the first one to get here, and he seemed to know immediately what I had done. Then I lost consciousness."

"Why would you try to remove your Dark Mark, Draco? You know how dangerous that is." Harry did his best not to sound angry, but Draco had scared him, and Harry had never reacted well to being scared.

"No matter what I do, or how much time passes, Harry, the only thing people care about is the fact that I was a Death Eater. I was young and stupid, but I'll never be able to do enough good to erase the bad. Did you know that there has only been one other person to get the Dark Mark before they were seventeen?"

Yes, Harry had known that fact. It had been Regulus, Sirius's younger brother, and he, like Draco, had regretted his decision. Harry nodded. "Yeah, it was my godfather's brother. He was too young to make such a choice, as were you. I know you want to be rid of any reminders of your time with Voldemort, Draco, but you could've died. Is it worth risking your life to get rid of the Mark?" A nod from Draco was not at all what Harry had expected, and it was this one small action that told Harry far more about Draco Malfoy than eleven years of knowing him had.

"You know me, Harry; you know why I did what I did. You know that I am not what everyone thinks I am. But you are not the person who passes me on the street when I go to the village. You are not the child whose parents tell them to hold their hand when they pass me for fear that I will take their child. You do not know what it is like to have people tell you to your face that they wished you would have died. Most of the time, I can take what people say and not let it get to me, but it's not easy. I guess I just thought that perhaps if I could get rid of the Dark Mark, then maybe people could forget."

That was understandable, and Harry couldn't blame Draco for trying, but he was damned if he'd allow Draco to try again. Harry brought his hand to his forehead and moved his fringe so his scar was visible, and shook his head. "You are not the only one with a Mark, Draco. Do you think if I removed mine, that people would forget what had happened to me? No, they wouldn't. No matter what you do, you will always be what others perceive you to be. Sod them, Draco. This is your life, not theirs. Do not allow others to dictate how you live your life. I hate that you were a Death Eater, and I hate that you had to do horrible things because Voldemort told you to. There is so much that is wrong about what you wanted to do and what you did, but you are alive now, and you are a good person, Draco Malfoy. Please do not throw that away because you want other people to see you as your parents and I already see you."

A few seconds later, Harry leaned in and kissed Draco, wanting to show him that there was someone who loved him and would miss him terribly if he left. When Harry pulled back, Draco, his eyes heavy, nodded before closing his eyes and falling asleep, his warm breaths caressing Harry's face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 6/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 3,440  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Six**:

A dizzy Draco averted his eyes from the mirror and placed his hands on the basin as he gripped the sides to steady himself. He then closed his eyes for a few seconds, as he always did when he felt this way. Healers had warned him that dizziness would happen with frequency if he attempted magic that overburdened his system, and had suggested that he not attempt complex magic for at least another year. As difficult as it was, Draco adhered to their suggestion, most of the time; however, there were certain situations in life that were worth a few negative side-effects.

Draco counted to sixty, then re-opened his eyes and was pleased to note that the dizziness had abated. He again looked into the mirror and studied his reflection, not certain he liked what he saw, but he had to admit that he didn't look too bad: He was a few inches taller, his hair was now extremely short and dark-blond — almost brown — and he had piercing, blue eyes that were accentuated by the melon-colored jumper he wore.

Once he had deemed his appearance passable, Draco walked outside and Disapparated. He reappeared near the familiar club, and grinned as he watched two blokes snogging and groping one another as they rounded the corner and prepared to enter the club. With any luck, Draco would be doing his fair share of snogging and groping before the night was over. He followed the two blokes into the crowded club, looked around, and took a deep breath.

The last time he had been here, his father had been in Azkaban; Dumbledore had been alive; the sadistic bastard known as Voldemort had still been alive, and he had loathed the very air that Harry Potter breathed. Much had changed for Draco in the past seven years: His father was now free; Dumbledore was dead; Voldemort was now, mercifully, gone and never coming back, and Harry Potter, someone who was quickly becoming the most important person in Draco's life, a fact that scared him more than he would ever admit to anyone.

"Smile, we're going to have a good time tonight, Draco. I've saved us a table; follow me. I went ahead and ordered a drink for you," Harry's familiar voice whispered in Draco's ear from behind.

Warm, sweet breath caressed Draco's ear and sent shivers down his spine and all of his blood further down. Draco grinned, turned around, and took the offered drink, then followed Harry and admired the view: Harry was now quite a bit taller, donned red, shoulder-length hair, brown eyes, had an earring in his nose, and wore tight jeans that hid nothing. Draco licked his lips, but as much as he liked what he saw, he only liked it because he knew what was beneath.

When they arrived at the small table, Draco waited for Harry to sit, then sat beside him. "How did you get away so early? I thought I was going to have to wait for you," Draco said before leaning in and kissing Harry. When he pulled back, he grinned. "Sorry, couldn't help myself."

Harry licked his lips and looked around the crowded club. "Teddy wasn't feeling well, so Andromeda came to get him earlier than expected. You said you liked to dance? Want to dance with me?" Harry asked as he downed the remainder of his drink and wiped his mouth with his shirt-sleeve.

"Of course," Draco said as he eagerly nodded; the prospect of dancing with Harry was why he had asked Harry to meet him here. He took a sip of his drink, then grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. Once he found a rather secluded area in the corner, he pulled Harry to him and proceeded to kiss him; he put over six months of want and need into it and hoped Harry understood. They only broke apart to breathe, then were once again kissing, dancing in a small circle as they tried to get as close as they could to one another.

"How's your magic?" Harry whispered into Draco's ear, his face showing concern.

Not wishing to speak about this around others, Draco motioned toward the table with his head. Once they were seated, he glanced at Harry and realized how worried he looked, and shook his head. Harry worried far too much. "Don't worry, I'm fine. I just didn't wish to have anyone hear me talking about this."

Harry nodded, but didn't look convinced. "Please don't lie to me, Draco. No one spends six months in St. Mungo's, as ill as you were, and comes out of it fine."

The sadness in Harry's voice and face made Draco want to keep the truth from him, but Draco knew that if he lied about how he was doing, and if Harry found out, then that would more than likely mean the end of whatever they had, and Draco wasn't ready for it to end, so he decided to be honest. He took Harry's hands in his and smiled. "I am improving, Harry, but it is a slow process. It is doubtful I'll ever recover fully, but, as my mother keeps reminding me, at least I am alive. Father blames himself for not taking me to St. Mungo's immediately, but who knew I was going to get worse? You should hear my mother talking about you; you have a fan for life now, I daresay. She is convinced that you saved my life."

"We tend to do that for each other, don't we?" was Harry's response, a cheeky grin on his face.

Relieved that Harry didn't seem to be dwelling in the negative aspects of what he'd said, Draco grinned. "I guess we do. You want to go?" Draco asked, wishing to be alone with Harry. He had looked forward to a night of fun and dancing, but now, looking at Harry, all Draco wanted to do was be alone with him.

"Yeah. I'd say it's time for us to finally do something a bit more than snog. We can go to my flat." Harry then let out a brief laugh. "Who would have ever thought that the two of us would get to the point where we were talking about doing anything of a sexual nature?"

Draco nodded. Not so long ago, he would have become physically ill at the mere thought of snogging Harry Potter, and now he wanted to do so much more. Fate was a funny thing. "I need to use the loo, then we can go," Draco said as he leaned over and pecked Harry on the forehead. "Be right back."

He entered the loo, but hadn't even undone his fly when he had the overwhelming feeling that something was very wrong. He walked out into the club and couldn't see Harry, but he felt his magical signature. He walked through the club, but there was no Harry, then he walked outside and could feel Harry's signature becoming stronger. Trying not to become too panicked, he walked around to the side of the building, where he had seen the two blokes earlier, and found a trembling Harry huddled against the building, pointing towards Dementors, who were descending upon him. He had his wand pointed toward them, but nothing was coming out of either his mouth or wand.

Draco's formerly composed demeanor turned to panic. He had tried a few times in the past few years to produce a Patronus, but hadn't succeeded. He pointed his wand toward the Dementors and thought of the first time Harry and he had kissed, then yelled as forcefully as he could, "Expecto Patronum!" The stag that appeared ran toward the Dementors and kept them from Harry. Once they were gone and his Patronus had faded, Draco approached Harry, who was shaking uncontrollably, and lifted him into his arms. He immediately Disapparated them to Harry's flat, where he sat on the sofa, Harry still in his arms, his eyes wide with terror. Draco tried to calm him. "It's okay, Harry, I've got you. When you feel like talking, tell me what happened." Draco continued to run his hands through Harry's hair, and tried his best to remain calm. He had seen fear in Harry's eyes before, and this was very similar, but, then again, it was different — this attempt to attack Harry hadn't been expected.

"They started coming toward me and I ran outside, but they followed me. I tried to produce my Patronus, but couldn't. I don't understand, Draco. The only other times I couldn't perform it were when I was wearing that Horcrux and when I was about to face Voldemort. Why couldn't I do it this time?"

Draco wished he knew, but he could guess. "You weren't expecting Dementors, Harry. As far as I know, no one has spotted them in three years." Harry sat up and settled next to him. Draco grinned, wanting to lighten the mood. "Your glamour's gone."

Harry retrieved his glasses from his pocket and put them on. "Much better. Your glamour is gone as well. How are you feeling? It takes a lot of magic to produce a Patronus, and you were already trying to keep up a glamour. Do you need to lie down?"

It would probably be wise, but Draco was more worried about Harry at the moment, and he had waited for this night for over six months, and was not going to wait longer just because he needed to rest. "I feel okay; a bit tired, but not too tired to do what we came here to do," Draco said as he leaned over and kissed Harry. When he pulled back, he motioned toward the bedroom. "But are you okay? If you are too shaken, we can do this later."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not about to allow Dementors to ruin our night together, Draco. Let's go to bed; I want to forget about what happened."

As the two entered Harry's bedroom, the gravity of what was about to happen hit Draco full on. He sat on the bed and watched Harry, who was rummaging around in a drawer. There had been few things in Draco's life that he had wanted more than this, but once they made love, Draco knew that he would want to be with Harry forever. It didn't matter to him that he would be upsetting his parents if he broke the engagement to Astoria; he had already planned what he would tell her and his parents. It would be sad, of course, his not having a son to carry on the Malfoy name, but that was a sacrifice he would be willing to make.

Unfortunately, it was not a sacrifice he would make.

Harry was set on getting married in the autumn of 2004, and that was not up for discussion… well, it was, but Draco wouldn't dare mention it. No matter how much he thought that Harry wished to be with him and not Ginny, Harry had made up his mind, and that was that. Draco understood, and would never do or say anything to make Harry feel bad for not choosing him.

"You certainly are quiet, Draco; what're you thinking about?" Harry asked as he turned toward Draco, holding a small vial. He then sat beside Draco and studied his face.

Draco smiled and reached out a hand and touched Harry's face. "How I can't wait to finally be as close to you as I've dreamt about for over six months," was Draco's reply. He placed his other hand over Harry's. "I've spent a lot of lonely nights in hospital thinking about you. You have no idea what you do to me, Harry."

Harry stood and walked to the head of the bed, pulled back the duvet, then toed off his shoes and removed his jumper.

Draco stood and did the same with his shoes, then removed his socks and shirt, and walked over to Harry and wrapped his arms around the bare chest and hugged him. "I love you, Harry." He then pulled back enough so he could lean down and kiss Harry, and they continued the kiss as Draco lowered them to the bed.

When they pulled apart, Draco undid Harry's jeans, lifted his hips, pulled the jeans down his legs, over his feet, and then threw them on the floor. He then removed Harry's pants. After removing his own trousers and pants, he crawled up so that he was hovering over a heavy-breathing Harry, who was looking at Draco, his green eyes wide and searching.

"Kiss me, Draco," Harry said as he lifted a hand and ran it through the hair that was falling into Draco's face.

Draco lowered himself so his and Harry's cocks touched, then he stretched out his body and balanced himself with his arms so he would not smother Harry, then kissed him, and let out a small moan when those soft lips opened and welcomed Draco's tongue.

They continued to kiss, and Draco re-positioned his body so his cock would touch Harry's once again. Harry's body arching off of the bed caused Draco to frot against him with more force.

There was so much Draco wanted to do: He wanted to kiss every inch of Harry; he wanted to taste every inch of him, and he wanted to bugger the wizard beneath him until he screamed. Normally, he had always followed a general order of events when about to do what he and Harry were about to engage in, but those had been occasions where time was limitless. Perhaps it was limitless this time as well, and Harry and he had hours to make love and explore each other, but, with the two of them, something always seemed to happen to keep them from doing what they wanted to do. This being the case, Draco didn't want to miss out on what he most wanted. If they had time later, then they could do the other things, but, at the moment, all Draco could think about was burying himself as deep inside of Harry as he could.

Harry had his eyes shut, but the smile on his face left no doubt that he was enjoying this very much. Draco lifted his head and smiled at the serene look that Harry wore. "Harry, open your eyes." Green eyes opened, and Draco thought he could stare into those eyes all night. "Are you ready?" Draco asked, not quite believing this was about to happen.

Harry nodded, turned his head, and grabbed the vial of lubricant that was on the bedside table. He handed it to Draco. "As you are well aware, I've never had a bloke enter me before, so you might want to apply this liberally."

As Draco studied the clear liquid within the vial, he thought about Ginny Weasley, although he tried fervently not to. Perhaps no other male had breached Harry, but Ginny had, and it bothered Draco. Ginny Weasley was Harry's past and future.

Draco would only ever be Harry's present.

Not wishing to think about that, Draco put it out of his mind, lowered his mouth, and sucked on one of Harry's nipples, relishing the sweet smells that Harry's body emitted. There were strawberries and vanilla, and Draco wished to see if the rest of him smelled as good; perhaps he could do that later. He could feel Harry's fingers running through his hair, and the increased noises told Draco that Harry was ready for more.

Draco lifted his head and smiled as he ran his fingers around the contour of Harry's small heart-shaped face. "It would be easier on you if you turned over onto your stomach and got on all fours." Draco played with Harry's other nipple as he spoke, and enjoyed the small noises his ministrations were causing.

"Yeah, it probably would, but I want to see you," Harry replied.

"And I, you, but if we do it that way, it's going to have to be slow and easy; I refuse to hurt you." Draco was not someone who liked it slow and easy, but the more he thought about it, slow and easy with Harry seemed as if it might be just about perfect.

"Seeing as how I have never done this with a bloke, slow and easy would be good, Draco. Do you think you could do that… for me?" Harry asked as he brought down Draco's head so they could kiss.

"Mm, I think so, yeah," Draco said against Harry's mouth before beginning another kiss. Reluctantly he pulled away and sat up. "Turn on your side so I can prepare you."

It took Draco ten minutes of very thorough preparation before he felt as if Harry had been stretched adequately. He then prepared himself, which did not take long at all, then turned Harry so he was once again lying on his back, and lifted one of Harry's legs and placed it over his shoulder.

"Are you ready?" Draco asked as he tried to calm himself. He had done this before, yes, but never with anyone who meant as much to him, and his nerves were about to get the best of him.

"Yeah, I'm ready, Draco," Harry said, his voice sounding as nervous as Draco's.

Draco lined up his cock with Harry's entrance, then slowly began to push in. As he had anticipated, the rings of muscle were difficult to breach, even with lubrication, and Harry's grunts worried Draco. "Push against me, Harry; it will help." Draco then began to caress Harry's chest as he continued to push his way inside of Harry.

When Draco was in as far as he could go, he stopped and looked at Harry, whose eyes were closed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, can you please move?"

Draco did as asked, but was careful to be slow. He wanted this to be good for Harry, and he needed it to be good for him. Surprisingly, it wasn't difficult at all to go slow, and Harry's body was as responsive as anyone Draco had been with, and definitely more giving.

Harry was talking, but Draco couldn't concentrate on what he was saying; it was all he could do to think clearly. He felt his orgasm as it built up, and then as it began to travel down to his cock. This was where he was known to get wild and forget that there was another person beneath him — he couldn't afford to do that with Harry. "Harry, open your eyes. When you come, I want to see your reaction."

Harry opened his eyes and grinned, then let out a scream when Draco's fingers wrapped around his cock. "I'm not going to last, Draco. Coming now." And he did.

Draco never removed his eyes from Harry's as his cock coated their chests and necks with copious amounts of ejaculate, which Draco licked up as much as he could and ran his fingers through what he couldn't get onto his tongue. When Draco's orgasm hit him, it was as if he had finally found what he had searched for forever. Yes, it seemed rather cliché-ish, and yes, he had thought similar things when he had orgasmsed with other men and women in the past, but this… Harry and him — it was different in every way.

The difference was that Draco was in love with Harry.

Draco leaned down to kiss Harry, but stopped when a bout of dizziness hit him. Fortunately, Harry didn't notice because he placed a finger on Draco's lips and smiled at the same time as Draco's dizziness hit. Draco closed his eyes briefly, but re-opened them and hoped that this would pass, or at least wait until Harry was asleep.

"I think there is something I need to say to you, Draco."

Draco nodded, then opened his mouth and took the small finger into his mouth and sucked on it as he waited for what Harry had to say to him.

"I love you, Draco."

Draco smiled as he opened his mouth and watched Harry's finger withdraw, then leaned down and kissed Harry. He had hoped to hear Harry utter those words, and now that he had, Draco felt completely content. When he lifted his head, he watched Harry close his eyes, and several minutes later, the rise and fall of the smaller chest after Harry fell asleep.

Sometime later, Draco decided that it might be a good idea to remove himself from Harry, so he did, albeit reluctantly. He hoped that there would be other occasions such as this for him to look forward to.


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 7/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 2,665  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Seven**:

Colorful, wild flowers that danced in the mild wind; green grass in need of grooming, and the unmistakable scent of spring in the air painted a far different picture of Godric's Hollow than the bitter, snowy night of six years earlier, a fact which comforted Harry: the memories of the night Hermione and he had spent in the graveyard and outside of his former home were ones that he wanted to hold on to without fear of other memories replacing them — this had been the reason Harry had almost decided not to make a second visit to Godric's Hollow, but his need and want to return had made up his mind. Hermione had assured him that he would never forget that night, but now, seeing how vastly different the landscape appeared, Harry knew that there was little chance that the two visits would merge into one.

As Harry continued taking in his surroundings, arms wound their way around his waist, and Draco's head rested on his shoulder. Harry smiled and leaned his head down toward Draco's, thankful that they were both under a form of the Disillusionment Charm that would prevent others from seeing them, yet would allow them to see each other. There were several people out enjoying the mild weather and he didn't want anyone to interrupt Draco and him.

"It's beautiful here, Harry," said Draco, his lips tickling Harry's neck as he spoke. "Thank you for bringing me to see where your parents and you lived."

Harry nodded and continued to look around him, wondering if his parents had ever walked along this section of the village. Perhaps his father had stood in this very spot, holding his wife in his arms just as Draco was doing with him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry decided this was as good a time as any to say what he needed to say to Draco. He fervently wished he could put this off, but he couldn't. Draco deserved the truth. "The night that Voldemort tried to kill me… the only reason he failed to do so was because of my mother." Harry stopped and took a deep breath, knowing that he needed to continue, yet not wanting to — he would never do anything to purposely hurt Draco. He covered Draco's hands with his and ran his thumbs up and down the larger hands. "She protected me, Draco. Dumbledore said it was her love that saved me. I think I believe this to be the truth, but I'm not sure; it could have been a combination of her love and blood that prevented my death that night. Ever since I found out why I survived that night, I have wanted to be able to do the same for any child of mine, but then you and me… you made me re-think everything, Draco. I couldn't imagine my life without you in it every day. I was ready to change my mind — I had changed my mind — you and me, I knew that we could adopt — I would be more than happy with that. But then that night, when the Dementors tried to attack me, I knew that there would always be threats to my life. I want children, Draco, more than anything, but I can't place a child in danger by being their parent when I don't know if my love alone will protect them." Harry's voice broke when he said protect. He had planned to say more, but found that he couldn't continue; he blinked his eyes, furiously — he couldn't see much because of the tears that threatened to fall. Thankfully, there were only a few that actually fell before he regained his composure. One of Draco's hands freed itself from Harry's, and wiped the tears from beneath Harry's eyes.

"Harry," Draco said in little more than a whisper, "how is it that you can stand here and tell me the reason we can't be together forever, and it only serves to make me love you more?" Draco then kissed Harry's neck, then his chin, then turned the slightly trembling body around and kissed Harry on the lips.

As Harry returned Draco's kiss, he didn't know how he was going to get through this, but he knew one thing: he would have the support of Draco, and that would go a long way in helping. When Draco stepped back, Harry tried to grin, and thought he might have succeeded. "So you don't think I'm being selfish?"

Draco shook his head. "Not at all. There is a part of me, of course, that wants to beg you to not have children; that would solve the problem. But I know, more than anyone, how much you want a son and a daughter. I would never ask you to give that up, and I would never want you to feel that you were not protecting your children to the best of your ability."

Harry found it almost impossible to believe that Draco could take this so calmly; he wasn't so sure he would be able to do the same if the roles were reversed. Draco was not one to say what others wanted to hear, however, so if he said he was okay with this, then he was. Well, actually he hadn't said he was okay with it at all, and Harry knew that Draco had to be hurting, but he knew that if Draco truly thought he was making a mistake, that he would say something. Harry nodded as he looked around at the trees that had begun to sway with a bit more force. "I do love her. I'm not doing this only for my children. I would never hurt Ginny like that," Harry said as he looked back at Draco, whose gaze was focused on a group of villagers who were walking along the pavement.

"I know. I've seen the two of you together, and I can tell that you really do love her. She is indeed fortunate to have you in her life, Harry." Draco then turned toward Harry and took a deep breath.

Harry thought it was rather the opposite — it was he who was fortunate: he had two people in his life who loved him unconditionally. "But we still have almost a year before the wedding, Draco, and I don't want to spend it thinking about the future."

Draco and Harry next walked toward the graveyard. Harry glanced at the statue of his parents and him, but didn't say anything; he planned to do so when they left. When they found his parents' headstone, Harry knelt and laid down the wildflowers that Draco and he had picked, then his hand traced the words that had been engraved, and there was a moment of despair as he remembered how fervently he had wished to join his parents when he had last knelt in this very spot. It was difficult to know that his parents' bodies were so close, yet there was absolutely no life in them — that which had made them who they were in life was now gone, removed from their bodies in what surely had to have been the ultimate operation.

Standing, Harry turned toward Draco, who was looking at him somberly. "Let's go." Draco and he left the graveyard arm in arm, and only stopped for a few seconds to pay homage to the war memorial that turned into a statue of him and his parents. Draco didn't speak, nor did Harry, until they were standing by the gate that led to the house where his innocent, carefree life as a toddler had been taken from him.

"I want to go in, Draco." Harry knew it probably wasn't wise, but how could he not go inside and see the house? Last time, with Hermione, it had been dark, and they had encountered Bathilda Bagshot's possessed body, but this time there was nothing to stop him and Draco from entering.

Draco looked pensively toward the house, then touched the gate, tentatively, as if he weren't at all certain they should enter, then he looked at Harry. Harry wanted to reassure him, but instead, he grinned, and his eyes traveled down to where he knew the sign was about to appear, and waited for Draco to see it. Draco's expression changed when he did see it, and Harry studied the pale, pointed face as the grey eyes scanned the words on the sign. It was easy to see that the words moved Draco: His chin began to quiver, then he turned and faced Harry.

"There are people who have never met you who have left you messages of support," Draco said, his voice showing his wonderment. "My parents told me about you when I was little, and I remember being jealous, wishing it were me who everyone spoke so fondly about. Then when I saw you on the train that day, I wanted so badly to be your friend. I had no idea what it meant to be you. I didn't understand that you were so revered because you had survived when your parents hadn't. I don't think I truly understood what it must be like for you until I saw you in the Great Hall after it all happened. It was then that I realized that you weren't this bigger-than-life persona that I had built you up to be. I had tried for so long to tear you down — to bring you down to where I was — but then that night I realized that you were just the same as me and that you hadn't asked for any of this to happen to you."

There were no words that would trump silence after such a revelation. Harry said nothing as he grasped Draco's hand and squeezed it, then glanced down at the sign and messages again before he returned his gaze to Draco, and smiled. They then opened the gate and began walking toward the house.

Seconds later Harry shakily lifted his hand and grasped the doorknob. As nervous as he was, he knew he'd be able to open it, just as he knew that no one else would be able to. He then looked at Draco and took a deep breath.

"Are you certain you want to do this, Harry?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, I am. Are you okay about going in with me? You don't have to, Draco."

"I want to go in with you. This is important to you, thus, it is important to me, Harry," was Draco's reply, his voice strong with resolve.

Harry turned the doorknob, and it opened. His heart beating faster, he pushed the door open and entered, immediately feeling a sense of peace and warmth that made him feel as if he'd made the correct decision; he had needed to return to the home he had only lived in briefly.

He could hear Draco clearing his throat behind him. "This is where my father died." Harry closed his eyes. His father had been protecting his family; he had stalled Voldemort, possibly for only the briefest of time, but he had done what any husband and father would have done, or so that is what Harry wished to believe.

Re-opening his eyes, Harry looked to his right and saw a closed door, and to his left, what appeared to be a sitting room. Harry reached behind him and grabbed Draco's hand, then entered the room. It was completely devoid of dust, and the furnishings and knickknacks looked as if they had been placed there recently — time really had stood still here. Then he walked toward the fireplace, and his eyes traveled to the mantel where there were two pictures of his parents and him; one of him alone, flying on a small broom; one of Sirius; one of Remus, and two that had two different sets of older people in them — they must be his grandparents. In the center of the mantel, there was a wand, surrounded by lilies and petunias. Harry reached out to touch it, but then pulled his hand back, feeling as if it were wrong to touch the wand. He knew that his mother had probably not been the last one to touch it, but he wanted to think that she had been.

Harry felt as Draco squeezed his hand, and squeezed back. His parents had been gone for over twenty-two years, but the magical residue from them lingered and bathed Harry in warmth that he had never felt before.

He turned to walk out of the room, but stopped: in the corner, propped up against the wall, stood a small broom. This object, Harry did touch; he picked it up, ran his hands up and down the broom, and closed his eyes as he imagined himself as a one-year-old flying around the room, laughing as his parents watched him. Harry thought that he'd do anything to be able to have those memories.

"It looks as though your parents wanted to start you early."

Harry grinned as he looked up at Draco. "Yeah." After a few more seconds, he set the broom back against the wall. "I don't know if we can, but I want to try to go upstairs."

They went through the other rooms on the ground floor before walking to the stairs. Harry pointed his wand in front of him and ran it up and down the stairs, then nodded. "The stairs seem stable." He placed a hand on the banister and began ascending the stairs.

When he was standing on the landing of the first floor, Harry looked to his right and knew that he was looking into what remained of his nursery. Someone had made it so that rain and the elements could not enter, which was a good thing: other than a small section on the left side, the room was almost completely destroyed. Against the left wall, which was yellow, there sat a small, light blue wardrobe with unicorns and dragons painted on the front, and on the floor, not even a meter away from where the destruction began, there were baby clothes: a shirt, blue jeans, socks, a pair of little shoes, and a nappy were all scattered on the oak floor as if someone had thrown them there. His eyes then traveled to the right, to where nothing was recognizable. What remained of his cot was somewhere in the debris.

Having had enough, he turned toward Draco. "I want to find my parents' room, then we can go." They exited his nursery and walked through the other rooms. The last one they entered had a large bed in it. The duvet was pale yellow, and the pillows were blue and yellow. Harry could imagine that it had only been slept in hours earlier. Pictures on the bedside tables reminded Harry how alive this house had one been. Harry's eyes next traveled to the large fireplace. Above it, there was a portrait of Harry laughing and clapping his hands — it must have been taken not long before his parents died.

Harry glanced at Draco, who was standing in front of the window on the far side of the room, then walked over to the bed, sat down, and looked around at the room where his parents had slept. A book was barely visible from its place on the bedside table nearest him, and the thought that either his mother or father had been reading it and had expected to read more of it… Harry leaned over and placed his head in his hands that had been resting on his knees, and allowed the tears to fall freely, and he didn't care that they didn't seem to want to stop. He felt the bed dip when Draco sat beside him, and found himself lying down, his head in Draco's lap. Draco's fingers, as they ran through his hair, kept Harry focused on the present, and he didn't move for quite some time.

Not a word was spoken until they were outside. Harry closed the door, turned around, and looked at Draco. "Please take me home."

A/N:Just a note to say that I have gotten a job and am about to move - this has happened within the past five days. Needless to say, my schedule has changed drastically. I am not sure when the next reason will be posted, but I hope the wait won't be too long.


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 8/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 1,900  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!  
**A/N**: So sorry for the lengthy delay in posting this chapter. Unfortunately, there won't be any more postings every few days. It seems I have a life now, and it doesn't allow for those frequent postings. I will post as often as I am able, however. Oh yes, and I should also apologize in advance for the angst I am about to inflict on you readers. So sorry about that, but it couldn't be helped.

**Reason Number Eight**:

As the lights dimmed and the audience's former chaotic banter faded to a mere whisper, Draco stealthily slid into a seat in the last row and waited for the curtains to open. Fortunately he didn't have long to wait: The small, round stage soon filled with at least fifty small Muggle children, Teddy, now six years old, the only non-Muggle among them. It had been at least a year since Draco had seen Harry's godson, but he was unsurprised to see that the young wizard's eyes were now green — according to Harry, Teddy had decided he wanted to have green eyes a year earlier. If someone didn't know who Teddy was, they might think that Harry was Teddy's father. For all intents and purposes, he was, and Draco knew that Harry took his position as a father-figure to Teddy very seriously.

Halfway through the first song, Draco surreptitiously looked at the people around him and wondered why any witch or wizard would send their offspring to a school for Muggles. Yes, he knew why, he just didn't completely understand. According to Harry, Andromeda had decided to send Teddy to a Muggle Primary school in order to better acclimate him with his non-wizard counterparts. She had been most aggrieved with her parents' and sisters' beliefs about Muggles, and was prepared to go the extra mile to make sure her grandson didn't grow up with the same closed-minded views. Draco thought his aunt was taking drastic, unnecessary measures, but he did respect her for her efforts. His own upbringing had been filled with anti-Muggle sentiment, and Draco knew how deeply entrenched his own beliefs still went. He wanted his children to appreciate everyone, thus he could try to understand why Andromeda had gone to such lengths, and he knew that once he did have his own children, that he would understand why his aunt had done what she had.

For the next forty-five minutes the five and six year olds sang and recited passages from famous Muggle historical documents. Teddy, trying to smile, and failing miserably, was trying his best to hide himself on the second row. He was stood behind a girl who was shorter than him, but Draco didn't miss Teddy's attempts to make himself seem smaller than her. Wherever Harry was seated, he was no doubt trying to get Teddy's attention and trying to get him to smile. Draco grinned at the thought. Harry, godfather or not, chosen one or not, could not perform miracles, which is exactly what it would take to get little Teddy Remus Lupin to smile and stand up proudly. He had inherited his father's dour, shy, countenance, but it fit the boy: he hadn't been meant to be a happy, jovial child, and there was nothing wrong with that. Harry had long ago told Draco that his godson shouldn't have to change how he acted in order to conform to how others thought he should act. Too many people had tried to change Harry, and for that matter, Draco knew that too many people had tried to change him as well. Little kids should be guided down the right path, not force fed a way of life that was alien to them.

Once the performance was over, and after Draco had applauded politely, he slipped out of the auditorium without being noticed, and waited outside, under cover of a copse of trees, for Harry and Teddy to emerge, which they did, fifteen minutes later. Harry was smiling, and Teddy's expression was not much changed from the one he had worn though out the program. Draco, as he always did when seeing Harry and Teddy together, felt a momentary pang: he wanted so badly to have a son like Teddy, and he fervently wished that he could have that son with Harry. When Teddy spotted him, his expression immediately changed, and that little smile did more for Draco's tired body than a week in bed would ever do.

"Hi, Draco. Did you see me? I was standing on the second row," said Teddy in his mild-mannered voice as he grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him toward Draco.

At six years of age, Draco hadn't dared reach for an adult or parent's hand — he had been a big boy and had been expected to act as such. Teddy was not him, however, and there were no parents to tell him to act like an adult, and Harry would as soon cut off his own arm rather than deny Teddy the comfort that holding his hand gave the six-year-old. Draco felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude toward Harry in that moment — he was going to make such a wonderful father. Draco smiled and nodded as he knelt so that Teddy could look into his eyes. "I did, and I even think I could hear you singing." The huge grin from the six-year-old that followed his comment cemented the reason why Draco had come. He hadn't been feeling that good; his magic levels had been sapping his strength and he had been told to remain in bed for a week, so he had almost decided not to attend the program, but Harry had told him how much Teddy wanted to see him, so against his better judgment he had come, and now he knew he'd made the correct decision. Seeing Teddy had always brightened Draco's day; children really did know how to heal the most wounded of bodies, hearts, and spirits.

Teddy reached out with his empty hand for Draco's, and his already huge grin increased when Draco took the smaller hand in his. "Harry is going to teach me how to fly. Want to come watch?" asked a now rather animated Teddy, who looked at Harry as if to make certain that his invitation had been acceptable. Harry grinned and nodded as he looked into Draco's eyes.

Draco continued to look at Harry as he answered Teddy. "I think that sounds fun. I'm afraid I won't be much help; I have been given strict orders to not do anything strenuous, but I am all for watching and giving advice from the ground."

The remainder of the day was spent teaching Teddy the basics of flying: it was all extremely easy and Teddy began getting frustrated because Harry wouldn't allow him to try anything more complicated, but, for the most part, the day went well.

As Teddy dismounted his broom for the last time, Harry asked Draco if he wanted to go for a ride with him, and Draco wanted to, more than anything, but he could feel himself getting weaker instead of stronger. He frowned and shook his head. It was so unfair. He wanted to remember flying with Harry in a good way, not the way their last flight together had been — that had been the scariest moment of Draco's life, and he had been terrified of dying. Harry's unmitigated selflessness that day had forever changed Draco's perception of Harry Potter, and that perception continued to change. Draco wanted this flight so badly… but he knew it wasn't the right time. "Can't." The despair must have been evident in his eyes. Why was it that he always appeared so weak in front of Harry? Of course, he knew the answer to this: Harry was the only person Draco could appear weak in front of. Harry never tried to make him not be sad. Harry knew that sometimes it was alright to be sad and upset, and if you didn't feel well, then it was more than understandable to appear less than one-hundred percent.

"When you are feeling better, Draco, you and I will go flying," was Harry's response.

Teddy had grabbed Harry's hand and was pulling him away, but Draco could see the concern in those green eyes as they looked back at him. Harry really was the only person who truly understood him.

While Harry took Teddy home, Draco decided to have a brief kip on Harry's sofa. It had been a long day and he felt lethargic.

A kiss woke him. He opened his eyes and smiled at Harry, who was seated on the edge of the sofa.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Not really. I'm supposed to be in bed, but my mum is treating me as if I were an invalid and I can't stand it, Harry. I just had to get out of the house, and I knew how much Teddy wanted me to be there, so I decided to go." Draco lifted a hand and ran it through Harry's hair.

"Well, I know that it meant a lot to him that you were there. I've never seen a child so taken with anyone in my life, Draco. He goes on and on about you. It's rather sickening, really." Harry grinned as he looked at the small broom that now lay on the floor in the corner. "Well, as much as I would like to do things to you that would do things to me, you should get some sleep, and as you are in no shape to be Flooing or Disapparating, it seems as if you'll be sleeping here. Let's go get you in bed."

Draco stood and followed Harry, and didn't say a word until he had taken off his trousers, shirt, shoes, and gotten under the duvet. He didn't at all like it that Harry seemed to have gained the upper-hand, but he was too exhausted to argue. "You'll need to Floo my mother; she'll be worried about me." Draco didn't even want to think about what his father would say about this. Not that he would particularly care, but he knew that Draco was in over his head with Harry, and he had repeatedly warned Draco that his continuing to see Harry was only going to make it more difficult when he married Astoria.

"I'll do that as soon as you fall asleep," replied Harry as he moved the fringe from Draco's face. "I dare say she'll not be too happy, but she'll thank me in the morning when you can return healthy and alive."

"She likes you well enough; she knows it's you I fancy, and she's fine with it, Harry. She knows who I'll marry, and she knows who you are going to marry, so what we do before matters little to her." Harry's confused look made Draco sad. This entire situation was rather sad, however, so Draco understood. He allowed Harry to fuss over him for a few more minutes, then closed his eyes as those small, luscious, soft, pink lips kissed his chapped ones.

"You get some sleep. I need to do a few things, then I'll join you."

Harry's absence was felt immediately. Draco hugged Harry's pillow to his chest — it smelled of pine and honeysuckle. Harry's scent surrounding him, Draco promptly fell asleep. When he next woke, he saw that Harry had indeed joined him, and was now sleeping soundly, his steady breathing comforting in a way that nothing else was. "I love you, Harry," Draco said as he continued to watch Harry sleep. "Astoria will be good to me, but I don't think she'll be good for me. You are good for me, and I don't want you to ever forget that." Draco then kissed Harry on the forehead, and cuddled up against him and closed his eyes.

Time was running out.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 9/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 2,616  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Nine**:

As Ginny and Molly left the sitting room, Arthur cleared his throat as he glanced up from the article he had been reading in the _Daily Prophet_; he didn't look at all happy. "A word, Harry?"

Dread coursed through Harry like hunger must have done in Crabbe and Goyle. He wanted nothing more than to take his leave, but he instead turned toward Arthur and nodded, wondering what had made Ginny's father look so upset. There was the obvious thought that it was about Draco… that would be the worst possible reason for this sudden change in mood. Harry felt his body tense. Draco and he had been so very careful, but information had a way of revealing itself in most unusual ways — Harry knew this from more than a little experience.

Pensively, he had a seat on the sofa nearest the fireplace as he tried to prepare what he would say when asked what he thought he was playing at by seeing Draco Malfoy when he was engaged to be married to Ginny in three weeks. What would he say? _Well, you see, Mr. Weasley, I love your daughter, really, I do, but I love Draco Malfoy as well and he makes me happy…_ Not likely! There would never be any right words to make this situation any more understandable or bearable, and Harry thought he might be sick. Why had he thought he'd be able to get away with this? Seeing both Draco and Ginny had been a foolhardy idea that had seemed doable and logical a few years earlier, but he had known that this situation was never going to have a happy ending, so why had he even started it?

"Lucius Malfoy and I had lunch yesterday, Harry. It seems as if…"

Whatever Arthur said next, Harry didn't hear, at least not clearly. Instead, panic began to flood his body. Lucius surely hadn't said anything about his and Draco's relationship. He couldn't have. Not that Harry would think the elder Malfoy incapable of such a thing…

"…needs help. I know you and his son have never seen the world in exactly the same light, but Lucius is desperate, Harry. He is worried about Draco, and thought that perhaps you could help him..."

Having missed a majority of what the Weasley patriarch had said, Harry couldn't be certain, but was Arthur asking him to help Draco? It seemed as if he were doing just that. So then that meant…

Lucius Malfoy was helping him and Draco be together? Was Draco's father giving them an excuse to see one another? If he were not hearing it from Arthur Weasley, Harry wouldn't believe it.

"I know it is a lot to ask of you, Harry, but we do need Lucius on our side, so I thought that perhaps if you helped Draco, that would ensure his father's continued loyalty. I fear what could happen if he changed his loyalties once again. As you know, there have been recent Dementor sightings in three of the surrounding villages. It could merely be coincidence, but it frightens me to think that we could be on the verge of another Voldemort trying to rise to power. If that is the case, then I fear Lucius might be vulnerable. Unfortunately, we need to do whatever is in our power to keep him on our side."

Yes, Harry agreed, and he knew how high the stakes were, regarding Lucius and his continued loyalty, but he couldn't help the immense sense of relief that washed over him as the realization that his secret had not been discovered hit. Potential disaster had been averted, and not only that: he had been asked to help Draco… and he would.

A slight grin graced his face. Yes, it was being dishonest with his future farther-in-law to accept this task under false pretenses, but what choice did he have? He needed to marry Ginny, he needed the love and support of the Weasleys, and he needed Draco. Each was just as important as the one before and after.

"Will you help him, Harry?"

Harry frowned — he had to make this look good. "I'll try, but Draco mightn't be amenable to my attempts; as you said, we have quite different views on the world. He isn't going to take kindly to receiving help from me." Yes, that was convincing, wasn't it? Arthur looked as if it were.

"Lucius assures me that his son is desperate to regain his strength, desperate enough to do as you ask," was Arthur's response. He still looked unhappy; it was quite obvious that he did not want Harry to have anything to do with Draco.

Harry sighed and nodded, thinking that he should probably feel bad for what was happening, but he couldn't. He had waited for over twenty years to live a semblance of a life, and now that he was in the midst of living and enjoying life, he would not give it up one second earlier than he absolutely had to.

An hour later, back in his warm flat, a relaxed Harry curled up on the sofa and closed his eyes, wishing to get a bit of rest before Draco arrived, because he knew they'd be expending loads of energy and not getting any rest.

Time was not on their side, and they had agreed to spend at least an hour a day together until Draco's wedding, which was nine days away. Harry dreaded that day, but knew that it was of his own doing. Had he true courage, he would put an end to this farce and allow the world to know that he was not in love with Ginny Weasley, and that he loved and was in love with Draco Malfoy. He kept repeating to himself that he was doing this for his future children — he wished them to be safe, and was prepared to go to any lengths to ensure that.

It was all true, but he also knew that there were no guarantees that he would have children with Ginny. What if she couldn't have children? What if he couldn't have children? Was the risk worth it? Was it worth throwing away true love and the best friend he could ever imagine having?

Yes, it was. As much as it pained Harry to think it, he knew that he wanted a little boy and little girl who carried his parents' genes within their bodies. It was important to him and, although no one other than Draco would truly understand, Harry knew that this was his chance to do what he wanted to do. So much about his life had been dictated for him, and this was truly of his own doing. Was it the wrong choice? Not if children came out of it. He might miss Draco every day of his life, and he might regret his decision at some point, but he would love his children and that would be more than worth all of the heartache. To hear someone call him daddy, to have someone look up to him as if he were the most important person in their lives… that was why he was doing this.

Something tickled his nose. Harry, who had been sleeping rather soundly, opened his eyes and could just make out the blurred image of a red rose as it was pulled away from his face. Then Draco leaned over and kissed him.

The two were naked within a minute, and within the next minute, they found their way to the floor. Within another minute, Harry's legs were hanging over Draco's shoulders as the thrusts of Draco became more irregular and noisy. It had been a while since they had made love, and the rapidity of their impending orgasms gave proof to that fact. Draco, who had preferred it fast and hard at the beginning of their relationship, now liked to take it slow, and he usually teased Harry before allowing him to gain his release. That was not how it was this time, however. Draco's moans and heavy breathing told Harry that Draco needed release immediately.

Draco's small moans as he allowed his orgasm to overtake him had always been what pushed Harry over; moans coming from Draco seemed so contradictory, and it gave Harry great satisfaction to know that he was the one who could reduce the Malfoy heir to such a state. When Harry came, his body shook with such force that he wondered if anything could ever feel better and more satisfying than an orgasm — he thought not. Catching the Snitch in a game of Quidditch was a distant second… very distant.

"I've missed you," were the first words Draco spoke, his breathing still erratic as he ran his fingers through Harry's hair. "I know we agreed to meet at seven, but I couldn't wait. The thought of burying my needy cock inside of your arse was too much and I needed it now."

Harry, unable to speak, nodded and pulled Draco down into another kiss. He shoved his tongue into Draco's mouth and tried to taste everything that Draco had eaten that day, but all he could taste were peppermint and possibly vanilla, somewhat different from the usual cinnamon and orange that usually emanated from Draco's breath. Harry had an idea that his own breath wasn't quite as refreshing — he hadn't brushed his teeth since before leaving to go to the Burrow a few hours earlier. Fortunately, that fact didn't seem to deter Draco from exploring his mouth.

After the kiss, Harry wrapped his legs around Draco's legs and locked them, then smiled as Draco kissed him on the nose and caressed his cheeks. Though blurry, Harry could see that Draco looked content; he was smiling. Although he didn't mind wearing his glasses, sometimes Harry wished he could see clearly without his glasses. Sex whilst wearing glasses was not at all sexy, but just once he thought it would be nice to be able to clearly see Draco's expressions as he came. Harry reluctantly Summoned his glasses to him; he couldn't stand not seeing Draco clearly.

"I think we should make love next time with you wearing your glasses, Harry. In all the times we've been together, we've never done that," Draco said as he carefully placed the glasses on Harry so he could see. "I think your glasses make you look smart and sexy."

Harry rolled his eyes — his glasses did not make him look smart or sexy. But if Draco wanted to say that, then he could. They both knew how to make the other feel better when the occasion necessitated it. "You are so full of it, Draco, but then if you weren't, I don't guess I'd love you like I do," Harry said as he leaned up and kissed Draco. "I have some news that I think you'll be interested in hearing." Harry pulled back and sat up so he faced Draco, his cock already half-erect again. Draco reached out and played with it as he looked up at Harry. Harry moved a bit closer to give those talented long fingers easier access.

"Do tell. You know I'm all for interesting news, especially when it comes from such a delectable source," Draco said as he began pumping the now completely hard cock that was causing Harry to moan and lean into the touch.

Now breathing hard, Harry glared at Draco, but only half-heartedly. Yes, this was important news, but he wasn't about to tell Draco to stop — those hands were too talented and were about to make Harry yell out. He did, then tried to speak. "Your father has made it possible for us to see one another. Do you know anything about that?" Harry asked, almost certain that Draco didn't. Lucius would never admit to trying to help his son have an affair with Harry Potter. Harry could now feel his balls tightening and his orgasm about to hit. When it did, he shook and watched as Draco milked him, then closed his eyes and allowed himself to come down from the intense orgasm.

"He did? How?" asked a perplexed looking Draco as he licked his hands, then Harry's chest and cock clean.

"Your father told Arthur that your powers were weak and that you needed help redistributing your magic. So Arthur asked me if I would help you," Harry finished, a small smirk on his face, which was almost immediately wiped away when Draco kissed him.

"And are you going to help me redistribute my powers, Professor Potter?" asked a teasing Draco as he licked Harry's throat, where a bit of ejaculate had escaped to.

"I guess so," Harry said, feigning a put-upon look, "but as we already agreed, once you are married, nothing will happen between us. I refuse to commit adultery," Harry finished, his voice now much more forceful and serious.

Another kiss stopped Harry from further upsetting news that neither of them wished to think about. Then Draco's mouth moved down and attached itself to Harry's nipples: the right one first, then the left. Harry arched each time that mouth sucked, and he could feel the perspiration gathering on his forehead.

For the next hour, they continued their lovemaking, and talked very little. When Harry began shaking, he forced Draco's head up. "I want you to swallow me and to take everything I can give you while you can."

When Draco's warm, wet mouth wrapped itself around Harry's cock, Harry knew he wouldn't last long. When he came, he could hear Draco drinking him and swallowing. Draco was milking him, and Harry, ever so briefly, wondered if Ginny would suck him like this. She had never been one for this, and Harry thought he would rather miss it.

"You like for me to suck you hard, don't you, Harry? I know that Ginny might try to suck you, but no one will ever pleasure you like I can," said a breathless Draco as he looked at Harry, come all over his chin, running down his neck.

Harry had no response, so he merely kissed Draco more passionately and tried not to think that soon this thing they had between them would be no more.

"I think we should retire to your bed," said Draco as he made a sound that gave proof that he was in pain. "It is easier on my body to be lying on something soft, and I'm quite certain it wouldn't do you any harm either," Draco said as he lifted himself with his arms and stood.

Harry's body immediately felt the loss of warm skin that had been keeping him warm. He allowed Draco to help him to his feet, and they walked hand in hand to his bedroom, where they fell into the bed and began a long night of lovemaking. They had a bite to eat after their fourth shared orgasm, and they Disapparated to Malfoy Manor after their fifth, and watched the sunrise together as they made love again in Draco's bed. They just did manage to escape when Draco's father tried and failed to gain entrance into his son's bedroom. Laughing, they returned to Harry's bed and fell asleep in each other's arms.

When Harry next awoke, Draco was gone, and Harry knew he wasn't merely in the other room preparing a fry-up — he was meeting with Astoria, and they were getting measured for their wedding robes. Unable to stop the inevitable, Harry pulled the pillow that Draco had been sleeping on toward him and held on to it for dear life.

A single red rose fell off the bed and onto the floor.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 10/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 1,670  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Ten**:

Draco stood, holding the unopened parchment, and looked toward the window; as the white owl had spread her wings to fly away, the realization had finally hit him that there might be no more visits from her. A lot of lasts were happening, and Draco didn't like any of them. He wasn't at all prepared for what was to come, but he had agreed to this; it hadn't only been Harry who had been a party in this relationship, and it hadn't only been Harry who had known how things were going to end between them.

Looking down at his desk, Draco frowned as the words on the parchment caught his eye:

'My to do list before Astoria and I leave for Portugal.'

Seven days to go, then Draco would leave England, and Harry. Yes, he would be returning when his children were old enough to attend Hogwarts, but until then, he would try to make a happy life for himself and for his family. He owed it to them, and most of all, he owed it to himself. He had come a long way from the selfish, young, naïve boy who had sought friendship from the one he would eventually love, and now that he had the opportunity to be a contributing member of society, he was going to take it and run with it. He was under no illusions that it would be easy; Harry would not be an easy person to get over, but Draco wanted a life that was fulfilling, and he would have it, with or without Harry.

He glanced at the parchment in his hand, then opened it:

_Draco –_

Meet me in Diagon Alley at ten. You know where I'll be.

Harry

Draco read Harry's words as he made his way down the staircase to the ground floor, then frowned as he stuffed the parchment into his cloak pocket and sat on the bottom step and listened to Astoria's mother and his mother as they made last minute changes to the wedding. From the sounds of their voices, the two women were having the times of their lives, and why shouldn't they be? Wasn't it a mother's dream to plan a grand wedding for their child? It certainly had once been Draco's dream to be the groom in such a large spectacle. Not so many years earlier, Draco had anticipated his own wedding with as much glee as the two women in the other room seemed to be exhibiting now.

That now seemed a lifetime ago.

Almost six years had passed since Draco had been excited about that impending wedding: then, a newly initiated Death Eater, eager to please, he had known without a shadow of a doubt that he and Pansy would marry. He had dreamt of his wedding day… and night. His hopes for the future had probably been no different from most males of his standing. He'd had more money than he could ever spend, and he had an old, venerated name. Life had been, for all known intents and purposes, perfect.

Time had changed everything. Now Draco was no longer proud of his association with the Death Eaters, he felt immense sadness and anger toward Pansy, and he was in love with his former foe, Harry James Potter. Life certainly had a way of laughing in the face of those who dared to map out unknown futures. Destiny seemed intent on taking Draco Malfoy down a road he both wanted and detested.

A boisterous laugh brought Draco's thoughts back to the present. His mother was no doubt regaling Astoria's mother with some tale that would be repeated to her daughter so that she could bring it up in a year's time and embarrass her husband.

"I thought you were going out for the day," said Draco's father as he sat beside his son and looked at him with what could only be described as pity.

Startled out of his maudlin thoughts, Draco jumped slightly, and hoped his father did not notice, which, of course, there was no way he could have missed it. "I am," Draco replied, resolutely, "but I don't wish to be detained because they want my opinion of this or that. It's quite enough to be going on with to know that they don't seem to care what either Astoria or I want." Draco shook his head and turned back toward the sitting room where his future was being mapped out for him.

"Your mother has waited twenty-four years to plan a wedding, Draco," was his father's rather understanding reply. "Indulge her, please? Believe me, I understand — it was the same when your mother and I were married: Your mother's mother and my mother turned what should have been a small wedding into a grand event. It'll all be over in a week, then you and Astoria can get on with your lives together." The elder Malfoy then stood and walked into the sitting room, leaving behind a now sullen-faced Draco, who didn't wish to be reminded that it would all be over in a week.

Deciding to forego telling his mother that he was leaving, Draco returned upstairs and took the back stairway down to the area where the house-elves had once stayed, then went outside and Disapparated. He appeared outside of Madam Malkin's, and grinned as he entered the establishment. There was only one other patron, and he was being fitted for dress robes. Draco's grin increased as he looked at the back of the messy, beautiful hair he so loved to run his fingers through.

"Mr. Malfoy, you must be here to pick up your wedding robes?" asked Madam Malkin as she looked at him sternly. She never had warmed to the Malfoys and only tolerated them because of Harry.

"Yes, but I am in no hurry." Draco sat in one of the chairs and opened the _Daily Prophet_ he had brought with him, but he had no intention of reading a word of it. Instead, he covertly stole glances of the handsome man who was now speaking, saying something about a silver clasp.

"You're all set to go, Mr. Potter. Your wedding robes will look wonderful on you when they are finished. You and Miss Weasley are going to have a beautiful wedding," said Madam Malkin as Harry stepped down from the dais.

Draco looked over the top of the paper and didn't miss the forced smile as Harry acknowledged what the elderly seamstress had said, then stood and walked toward Madam Malkin, who had looked at him. When Harry's and his eyes finally met, Draco nodded and smiled, even if it were only a small one — they couldn't risk Madam Malkin seeing the exchange. Yes, the robes Harry had chosen were perfect: Draco approved.

An hour later, Draco leaned over and kissed Harry's neck, then pushed the swing that Harry sat in. Feet raised, Harry looked behind him and grinned.

"Higher."

Draco obliged him and pushed him higher and higher, and smiled when Harry giggled. This innocence of theirs was about to end, and Draco was having a difficult time dealing with this knoweledge, but at least he was finally going to do something about it. Harry would not be at all happy that Draco was leaving England, but he had no say in the matter.

When Harry put his feet down and stopped the swing, he motioned for Draco to join him, and when Draco sat down in Harry's lap, they kissed, then Draco stood, so Harry could get out of the swing.

"How would you like to go to the opera tonight, Harry?" Draco asked as he and Harry walked hand-in-hand to the flat that Draco thought of as his and Harry's.

"I thought you said we'd never go to the opera or have afternoon tea, and as of today, we have done neither. Of course, I am quite willing to do both," Harry said, coyly, as they entered the flat and walked toward the bedroom. "So you think the robes are okay? I wasn't too sure about the silver lining on the inside; it looks a bit too haughty for my tastes," Harry said as he removed his shirt and sat on the bed and welcomed Draco as he sat in his lap and kissed him.

Draco pulled back from the kiss, then reached back in for one more. "They look perfect on you. Thank you for allowing me to be the first one to see them on you." It had meant everything to Draco when Harry had asked him to attend his fitting. It hadn't at all been the most fitting of places to see Harry in his wedding robes, but it had been the only opportunity Draco would have, so he had selfishly taken the invitation, knowing that he would see Harry before Ginny. A petty thought to be sure, but Draco had never claimed to be anything other than human.

That afternoon, the two had tea, biscuits, scones, and some other edibles that Draco had never seen before; they seemed to be more of a Muggle delicacy than a wizard one. Then they went to see _Pagliacci_. They sat in the last row of the dress circle and held hands as they listened to the sad tale of a love gone wrong.

Draco looked over at Harry after the actor who was playing the part of Canio announced that the comedy (that was not at all a comedy) had ended, and saw tears streaming down his face. Anyone who witnessed the tears might have thought they were tears of sadness over the heartbreaking opera, and some of the tears might have been shed because of that, but most of the tears were the result of another tragic love story that would not have a happy ending. Draco thought about saying something profound, but decided against it and instead turned back toward the stage and applauded as the actors reemerged and took their bows.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 11/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 2,240  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Eleven**:

It was much too quiet in the midst of an onslaught of noise as he and Draco walked through the streets of West London, along with several hundred other theatre-goers who had just seen the sad tale of love-gone-awry, and Harry knew that this was the beginning of the end. It had been too good to be true — their last night together had been going so well, and Harry had known that something would mar this last meeting… of course, he had hoped to be proved wrong. He tried valiantly to think of something to say that would break through the oppressive chill and silence. Everything had been going so well not even five minutes earlier: after the performance had ended, Draco and he had remained seated until the theatre emptied, then they'd left, hand-in-hand. As soon as exiting the theatre, they had kissed, shared a meaningful hug, and a few loving words that only seasoned lovers would share with one another. Then, as if someone had changed places with him, Draco's demeanor had morphed in front of Harry's eyes, and a coldness — one that Harry hadn't seen since he had lain on his back in a compartment of the Hogwarts Express, and watched, helplessly, as Draco broke his nose — overtook Draco's face and body. But then it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with a downtrodden expression, one that upset Harry quite a bit more than the coldness had. Draco's entire body deflated, and Harry knew in that moment that he had mentally and emotionally lost Draco.

Not knowing what to do, Harry grasped Draco's hand in his and squeezed, hoping, yet knowing that this small act wasn't going to be the usual balm that healed a hurt heart. Usually, such a sentiment would result in Draco looking at him and smiling — this was not one of those times, however. "Draco?" Harry asked, worried. Still, there was no response, but seconds later he turned to face Harry. He lifted a hand and reached out to take Harry's shaking hand, but then pulled back and shook his head and mouthed the word _no_. His entire body now shook, seemingly uncontrollably. Harry had no idea what to do. Draco shouldn't become overly stressed, because that would result in him becoming ill. Harry felt helpless. He was the cause of all of this, and he hated what he had done, yet he wasn't willing to do anything to change the current course the two were on — a course that would lead them away from one another. What if this led to Draco… no. Harry refused to think of that. Draco would be fine. He would marry Astoria in a few days, and she would make sure he did not overexert himself. If anyone had to have Draco, Harry was glad it was Astoria. She would treat Draco well, and although she had never said anything or intimated it, Harry knew that she was very much aware of what was going on with her future husband and Harry Potter. She would be there for Draco and help him get over his hurt.

Well, that is what Harry kept telling himself. Of course, he knew the reality would be so much more difficult to deal with, but it hurt too much to think about that, so he had to think that things would work out. They had to. "I love you, Draco." Harry reached out for Draco's hand, but it retreated further, and Harry felt a bit more of Draco slipping away. He wasn't ready for this. He would never be ready for this.

"I'm moving, Harry," Draco finally said as he looked away, his voice not a whisper, but much quieter than his normal speaking voice. When he turned back to face Harry, a lone tear began to trickle down his face. When Harry reached out to wipe it away, Draco shook his head and wiped furiously at his face. "Astoria and I are leaving for Portugal in a week." No more tears fell, and Draco's stare became cold once again.

All Harry could do was stare at Draco. No. This could not happen. A terror tore though his body and he thought he finally understood what Draco had been feeling for over a year. Never had he once thought that this would happen. Hermione had told him that this was a possibility — she had said this was too much for Draco to deal with, but Harry had dismissed the notion, thinking that there was no way Draco would do such a thing. He had been wrong, and it was a disappointment like no other. Draco was leaving? This was really going to happen. Harry couldn't speak; he merely nodded for fear that he would make a spectacle of himself if he tried to speak. It had been quite enough to know that this night would be the last they ever spent in each other's arms… but _this_… knowing that they mightn't ever see each other again… that thought was almost unbearable.

"I don't want to go, and if you ask me to stay, I will, Harry," Draco said, his demeanor one of sadness, but the look soon changed into the familiar one he always had when gazing into Harry's eyes — a look of love and reverence. He reached out and grasped Harry's shaking hand. "But I don't think you'll do that. It really is for the best. Astoria deserves all of me, and if I stayed here, she would never even have half of me."

Again, all Harry could do was nod as he stared at Draco. They had made love hundreds of times, had shared walks, had told each other their deepest, darkest secrets, and had vowed to love one another forever. Unfortunately, loving someone forever did not necessitate the two parties to live together. "No, you're right. I won't ask you to do that. I've already asked too much of you." Harry thought his voice sounded as if he were in a tunnel… or a dream. Was he dreaming? Oh how he wished he were. "Are you feeling okay?" Harry added when he saw Draco's shivers becoming more uncontrollable. "We can go inside if you are getting too cold," Harry said, the concern obvious in his voice.

"I'm a bit cold, but I'll be fine," was Draco's almost whispered reply.

Harry was having none of it. It was obvious that Draco was not well. Harry found an alley that was thankfully empty, and grabbed Draco's arm. He Apparated them to his flat, and as soon as they arrived, he picked up Draco and carried him to their bedroom. Draco fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Harry sat beside him, holding a pale, beautiful hand, and began to cry. This was it; after tonight there would be no more of this.

Draco was air for Harry.

Draco was food for Harry.

Draco was water for Harry.

Draco was everything for Harry.

Harry removed his and Draco's clothes, and wrapped his body around Draco's. He needed to feel every part of Draco. He already had every freckle and mole memorized, now he wished he had been as cognizant of each little sigh and breath. He had heard billions of both, but after tonight, there would be no more, and the expectant emptiness was almost too much to think about. Ginny had told him a week earlier that she couldn't wait to fall asleep to his steady breathing. Harry would miss falling asleep to Draco's labored breaths.

A noise interrupted Harry's thoughts, and he smiled when Draco opened his eyes.

"I am leaving, Harry. That is not negotiable, but I am not gone yet. Please make me feel like you did the first time we made love. I want to feel as if that which I had been searching for has finally been found. I want to feel as happy and as content as I did when lying in your arms that first time. We know what is going to happen, but we can have this one last time. Please tell me we can do that, Harry," Draco said, his voice visibly emotional. "One more night with no one other than the two of us." He then closed his eyes and began to move his hands down Harry's body until he reached his hips. He then sat up and climbed on top of Harry and laid his head on the once smaller chest. Illness had reversed their physical appearances, but Draco would always be the protector, even as it was Harry who now took on that role more and more. "I don't think I'll be able to do much, but I want to try to show you how much I'll miss you." Draco then leaned down and kissed Harry on the chest.

It was obvious that Draco was being overly emotional, and for good reason, but Harry found this inconsolable Draco upsetting. Draco knew how to show his emotions, but he had always reined them in before they became too maudlin. In all of their time together, Harry couldn't recall a time when Draco had been this down. Harry lifted Draco's head and wiped away a tear as he allowed his own to fall. "You don't need to show me how much you'll miss me. I see it in your eyes. I want you to close your eyes and sleep."

"But we don't—"

"Shh," Harry said. "Sleep."

Draco did… for the next two hours. When he awoke, Harry made love to him. As predicted, Draco wasn't strong enough to have an erection, but Harry touched Draco in ways that didn't require an orgasm for fulfillment. Draco cried as Harry held him, and he cried harder when Harry filled him.

When Draco was once again asleep, Harry removed himself from their bed, donned a dressing gown, and walked outside into the cool, misty night air. Under stars, he was insignificant: he was but one person in a world that had seen billions, but to one other person he had been significant. That meant more to him than all the other reasons others would say his life had meaning. Yes, he had done some good things that people would write and read about for centuries, but the best thing he had ever done — love Draco Malfoy — that would never be written about, and that was how it should be. Only he, Draco, and the stars that had shone on them night after night would know that there had once been a love so pure that nothing could ever ruin it. It was a love that would outlast the sun, the moon, the stars, eternity.

Arms wrapped around his waist, and Harry leaned back into Draco's embrace.

"What is it about the night sky that you find so captivating?" asked Draco, before he licked Harry's ear, then neck. "If I had a Galleon for every time I found you gazing at the sky…"

Harry laughed. "I'm thinking you probably do have more than a few Galleons for each of those times." Harry turned his head to give Draco better access to the part of his neck that Draco loved to suck on, then pointed toward the sky. "It's infinite; never-ending. I guess you know you were named after a constellation," Harry added as Draco sucked on his neck with a bit more force.

"Mm yes, so I have been told," Draco replied with a chuckle. "It's a bit odd that in all the nights we've spent out under the stars, that we've never talked about where my name came from."

"Yeah, well, we've had more important things on our minds," was Harry's breathy response as he felt Draco's teeth graze his skin.

Draco withdrew his mouth from Harry's neck and gave Harry a mock glare. "Hey, that's my name we're talking about."

"Yes, and I am guessing that you would have preferred to discuss the origin of your name rather than explore each other?" Harry hadn't even completed the sentence when Draco attacked the side of his neck again. Harry had an idea that he'd not be able to hide the evidence of his and Draco's lovemaking, and he didn't care. He had no plans to see Ginny or Ron for a few days, and by then the love bites would be gone.

"Not likely," Draco said as he lifted his head and looked at his handy work. "I'd prefer to forget why I was named Draco to be quite honest. My father told me when I was three that being named after a celestial body was befitting of a Malfoy and that all Malfoys should carry on such a tradition." Draco punctuated his comment by blowing on the love bite he had made.

Harry grinned. "And you will do this? You will name your child or children after a star? I know you too well. You might complain about it, but you do think a lot of family, so I assume you will carry on the tradition." Harry watched as Draco's expression turned serious, and it made him smile. Family really was just as important to Draco as it was to Harry.

"Of course. As I see it, I have no choice. It is either that or listen to my father whine about my failure to do so. So what shall I name my first born son, Harry? Do you have a preference?" Draco asked as he squeezed Harry's erect cock.

"Er..." For all of the time Harry had spent studying the night sky, he was not that knowledgeable about astrology, and having Draco's cold hands on his cock was not helping the situation. "I think the sun is under Scorpius now. Scorpius might be a good name." There had to be hundreds of constellations or stars with names better than Scorpius, but at the moment, none of them came to mind. And it didn't matter anyway. Draco would most likely forget this conversation by the time he had his son.

"You think so do you? Very well. So then that is what his name shall be: Scorpius. And he will have been named by you, and only you and I will ever know that."

A grin found its way to Harry's face as he kissed Draco. Then he lowered himself and Draco to the ground and proceeded to make love to Draco again, which did result in Draco having an orgasm. They fell asleep under the stars and woke up as the first rays of sun were rising over the trees along the horizon. It promised to be a beautiful day, and as Harry looked upon Draco's sleeping face and listened to the labored breathing that was as much a part of him as his own breathing, Harry knew that whatever life had in store for him and Draco, they would be okay.


	12. Chapter 12

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 12/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 2,950  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!  
**A/N**: I should warn you all that from this chapter forward, things are going to be sad. Yes, as I have told many of you, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, but it is rather far off at the moment, and there is quite a bit of angst before that light makes itself known.

**Reason Number Twelve**:

As a small boy, who hadn't many friends, a majority of Draco's time had been spent inventing people and places to help him escape the boring existence that being a Malfoy child had meant. His parents had never been home, and the closest thing to a sibling had been Dobby; the house-elf and Draco had spent many days out in the gardens playing, but one day when Draco was eight, Dobby got in trouble and wasn't allowed to play with his master's son ever again. Draco hadn't understood, but no one had cared — Draco had been a child, and children didn't need to understand.

Soon after, Draco had began to live the life of a spoilt, rich wizard-in-training, something which made his parents quite proud: He had traveled to far off places, had eaten in posh and exclusive restaurants, had shaken hands with some of the most famous wizards and witches, and had been given just about everything an impressionable young boy and man could ask for. His mother and father had never been able to refuse him anything he truly wanted…

until today… a few hours prior, to be exact, and as Draco recalled the conversation with his mother, he tried to let it go, along with the grief he now felt. Today marked the beginning of the rest of his life, and his determination to make the best of it was all-consuming. This being the state of his life, the conversation with his mother, no matter how sweet, loving, and well-intended, had hurt, and Draco wondered if anyone would have a similar conversation with Harry. He thought so, and he had a good idea that it would be Hermione who did the talking, and she would probably be no less loving in her words to her friend than Narcissa Malfoy had been with her words to her son:

_Draco, before you were born, my hopes for you were that you would be a boy and that you would be healthy. Both of my wishes came to fruition and when they handed you to me, I cried with happiness. Your father thought I was sad, and he couldn't understand why it was that at such a beautiful and meaningful moment, I was crying. I remember hoping that you would grow up more sensitively than your father. It makes me more proud than you'll ever know that you are who you are. So many parents want their children to prosper and do great things. You have and will continue to do great things, but what I am most proud of is the fact that you have dealt with your current situation as well as you have. Many people would have broken under the weight, and I must confess that I have worried endlessly about you. I know that it seems so unfair — what is happening — it is, my son, but I am a firm believer in the saying that everything happens for a reason. You know that I have never been a huge Harry Potter fan, but what he has done for you has won him my gratitude and love for life._

"You have always been someone whom I have been proud of, but you did grow up rather sheltered and protected, which is almost completely your father's and my fault. Through Harry, you have learned to live and be a more caring, loving individual, and it has been a beautiful thing to watch. I am so sorry, my son, that this is happening to you. I wish that I could wave my wand and allow you and Harry to be together forever. Oh, honey, I'll be the first to admit I was horrified when I discovered what was going on between the two of you, but at this moment, I would do anything to keep the two of you together if that were possible. It isn't. But know this: Astoria loves you and she will be good to you. She is as good as they come, and if you and Harry can't be together, then I am so very happy that you have Astoria. There is nothing I will not do for the two of you…"

Draco closed his eyes, swallowed, and felt the lump that had resided in his throat all morning, then allowed his mother's hug that had followed her words to warm his chilled body. A few seconds later, he cleared his throat and stood, then closed the window.

He had hoped to see the white owl once more, but he had known it wouldn't come. Still, he had hoped.

The guests would be arriving about now, and the festivities would soon begin. Draco removed his wedding robes from the hanger and studied them. Harry would never see him in them, and as sad as that thought was, it was as it should be. Draco couldn't have Harry, and starting today, he wanted to move past the last several years. They had been good times — the best — but Draco could not afford to live in the past… not if he wanted a future.

As he donned the expensive robes, he turned and looked at himself in the mirror. He was much too thin, and he looked ill. Well, he was ill, but he looked worse than usual. How was it that Astoria could stand to be with him? She was so pretty and elegant-looking, and when she entered a room, everyone turned to see who it was that had the striking looks.

She meant a great deal to Draco; he would do anything for his future wife, but he hadn't quite gotten to the point where he loved her yet. He was getting there, and with time he would, but at the moment, there was only one person he loved, and that was Harry.

Thirty minutes later, he and his father walked down the back staircase and entered the ornately decorated ballroom, where the ceremony was to take place. The room, which had always been Draco's favorite place to spend his days, because of its immense size, now sparkled underneath new light-fixtures and paint, and a huge portrait over the mantel, one which Draco hadn't seen in years (Draco's mother had sent it off to be restored), housed the Malfoy patriarch's parents. It gave the room a warm atmosphere, and Draco wondered if his grandparents would approve of his marriage to Astoria, or if they would approve of his relationship with Harry. He had an idea that they would not approve of the former, but that they would have approved of the latter — according to historical accounts, his grandparents had been quite liberal and had wanted to institute major changes in the wizarding guidelines. They might have succeeded in many of their changes if it hadn't been for their unfortunate deaths at the ages of fifty-seven. It was quite obvious they were silenced, and as horrific as that was, Draco applauded his grandparents for not following the status quo. Too many people did that, and nothing ever changed.

His eyes roamed around the room and he took a few deep breaths to calm himself. There had to be over three-hundred people in attendance, and it made Draco want to retreat upstairs to the safety of his room, but he knew there would be no turning back. He had agreed to this, and he knew that deep down he really did want this. No, he wasn't going to be betrothed to the one whom he wished to be with, but he knew that there were important advantages to what was about to happen, and he couldn't wait to welcome Scorpius Malfoy into the world: that little boy would be the most loved child there ever was.

"I have left you and Astoria a gift on your bed," Lucius said, in a quiet voice meant only for his son to hear, as he ceased his steps and looked at his son, a look of pride and happiness clearly evident.

Draco nodded and took another deep breath as he scanned the room. He had no idea who most of these people were.

"You are doing the right thing, Draco. You know how the wizarding world—"

Not wishing to hear his father complete that particular sentence, Draco shook his head. "Don't say it, Father. I know. You don't have to keep reiterating how disappointing it would be if they all—" Draco waved his hand around in a grandiose fashion—"found out that I was bisexual. Don't worry, I don't plan on letting anyone in on my _dirty little secret_."

"It's not a dirty little secret, Draco. You are who you are and there is nothing at all dirty about that. No matter my feelings on the subject — and you know what they are — if you decided this very moment to profess your love for Harry in front of all of these people, I would support you. Your mother and I love you and want you to be happy. I do think that you and Astoria will be happy. She will be good for you, Draco."

Another nod was about all Draco could manage. His father had just said the one thing Draco had waited all of his life to hear. Yes, his parents were concerned about their status in the community, but they would always put their son first. It meant more to Draco than anything, even Harry's love. He had only ever wanted his parents to love him for who he was, and now, at the age of twenty-four, he felt like he had finally gotten that which he had craved for so long.

As Draco and his father took their places at the front of the room, the music began playing, and soon thereafter, Astoria began her walk toward him. She looked radiant in her ivory wedding robes, and her long, brunette hair flowed down her back in waves. She was beautiful, and Draco knew that her beauty was not only on the outside. She had the heart of an angel, and Draco knew that is what he was going to need. He needed someone who was going to understand him and accept him for who and what he was.

She looked at him and smiled, and it caused Draco to smile. Was she really going to take him on as a husband? Draco knew he was indeed fortunate. Not every witch would have been so understanding or tolerant. Draco would make sure that he thanked her daily for what she was doing, and he only hoped that he could make her happy; she deserved happiness.

As the vicar began to speak, Draco caught Astoria glancing toward the back of the room, then watched as her smile increased. Intrigued as to who or what had caused such a reaction, Draco looked toward the back and grinned. Pansy was holding her two-month-old son, and she nodded her head when she caught Draco watching her. Such a simple gesture, but it meant quite a bit to him. He had once loved Pansy — not in the way that he loved Harry — but he had genuinely loved her and had hoped to marry her and father her children. It had hurt him badly when she turned out to be far crueler than he had thought she was. The past would never change, but the person that Pansy had been, had. She wasn't perfect — no one was — but Draco did consider her a friend now, and it made him happy to see that she had come to see him be married.

He returned his gaze to the vicar, and wished he hadn't. Harry was standing outside the window that was opposite Draco. He was invisible, but Draco could feel his presence. It momentarily upset him, but then he felt a sort of peace wash over him. Perhaps it was best that Harry was witnessing this. They both needed to realize that this was real; there would be no going back. Draco wished he could see Harry, but knew it was best he couldn't. He wanted to remember Harry as he had been the last time they had been together: They had been sitting outside as the rain began to fall, and Harry had leaned over and kissed Draco, then stood, turned, and left, never looking back. As the rainfall increased, Draco had stared at the place where Harry had been, and he remembered thinking how fitting the rain was — it had washed away his tears.

As Astoria grasped his hand, Draco forced his eyes from the window and vowed not to look back. He listened as the vicar spoke, and all he could think about was that with each word the vicar spoke, Harry and him grew further and further apart. Their bridge was burning and a new one between him and Astoria was being built. Part of Draco wanted the new bridge to be stronger than the previous one, but there was a part of him that knew that no matter how wonderful the new bridge might become, it would never be beautiful or memorable enough to replace the one that was now burning.

After the ceremony was over — Draco didn't know how it ended so quickly — it was as if he hadn't even been there, Astoria whispered in his ear:

"We are not leaving until you talk to him. I reluctantly asked him to come, Draco. You are my husband now and I expect you to act the part, but I can't deny that it is him who your heart belongs to. Go talk to him; get it out of your system. This is your only opportunity. After today, there will be no more allowances from me for this thing you and Harry have. You chose me and I expect you to abide by that choice. Your mother and I have talked and we both agreed that one final meeting was in order, but we also both agree that after this, there should be no more contact between the two of you."

Blood left Draco's face by the pint, and he was sure he would faint with the loss. There were not words to express what he felt. Didn't his wife understand that he and Harry had already decided that no further contact was the best thing for everyone? Did she realize how much she was hurting him by doing this? Of course she had no idea, but she was, and Draco wasn't at all certain what he should do or say. He couldn't face Harry now that he was married to Astoria, and further more, he couldn't believe that his wife would even allow him and Harry to talk. Yes, Draco was aware of how giving and wonderful his new wife was, but a person could only take so much, and Draco thought that allowing her new husband to see his not-so-former lover on his wedding day was a bit odd. Draco would never be able to be quite so permissive if the roles were reversed.

Ten minutes later, a reticent Draco found himself seated on his bed as Harry sat in his desk chair. It hadn't been a week since they had made love, yet there was already a line that had been drawn. Harry was no longer Draco's, and Draco was no longer Harry's. It was a feeling that Draco didn't like. He felt uneasy even looking at the man whom he still loved.

"Why are you here, Harry? I thought we agreed not to see each other again." Draco tried valiantly to sound calm and unaffected, but inside he wanted to scream and run across the room and hug Harry. Instead, he opened the gift his father had left for him and Astoria. It was a key to their new home, only a few miles away. He put it in his cloak pocket and returned his attention to Harry.

"I know, and it wasn't my idea, Draco. Your mother and Astoria cornered me the other day as I was leaving Madam Malkin's. I thought they were mad when they suggested I come to the wedding, but I don't think that now. I think the both of them were probably grasping at straws to make you happy and they thought that seeing me might do that. I'm sorry I came, Draco, really, I am. It was a mistake, and I knew it would be. I should get back to the Burrow. Ginny and Fleur will wonder where I have gone off to if I am gone too long."

It was obvious how uncomfortable Harry was. He looked as if he'd rather be any place other than where he was. Draco wasn't exactly thrilled with the situation, but now that he thought about it, who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth? He hated the situation, but he would be damned if he let it pass him by. He wasn't at all stupid — he knew that his wife was serious — this really was the last time he or Harry would see one another, at least for a very long time. Who could blame Draco for not wanting to let Harry go quite yet. "Can't you stay for a bit? It would be rude for you to leave so soon." Draco knew how weak his words sounded, but he had to try. Harry didn't look at all convinced. "Just ten minutes. Please?" he all but pleaded.

Draco knew what awaited him, but he wanted to live in his imaginary, perfect world for a few minutes more.


	13. Chapter 13

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 13/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 3,965  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Thirteen**:

A tired and frustrated Harry returned from his latest assignment, a raid that hadn't gone at all as planned, undid the silver-clasp, and threw his thoroughly soaked cloak onto the sofa. He then Summoned a goblet of water and gulped it down as he fell into his desk chair and looked impatiently around his study as he waited for the two Aurors who had cost them a prime suspect in the recent string of murders that had occurred near the village where Bill and Fleur now lived. To say he was livid would not come close to describing his current demeanor.

Even a half-brained twit should know how to keep their mouth shut when attempting to throw a curse while trying to remain undetected! Harry should know — he had learned that lesson, in a rather cruel fashion, from a wise and brave man, a man whom he had named his second son after. Although Snape might not want to admit it, Harry knew that if his former teacher were still alive, he would now approve of his student's abilities when it came to performing magic stealthily.

He would definitely _not_ approve of a child being named after him, however, and that fact made Harry grin. It gave him a small form of satisfaction to know that he was carrying on a legacy, if even in a small, roundabout way, to keep the memory of Severus Snape alive. The man would surely be rolling and sicking up in his grave if he were able. Harry chuckled at the thought and wondered what his son would think when he found out why he was named as he was. Harry hoped his son would be proud.

Al had started out his life being called Severus. Draco had once suggested to Harry that if they had a son together, his name should be Severus. Harry hadn't given the comment any serious thought, because, well, there was no way that he and Draco would ever have a child together, but when he had held his tiny son, whom they had planned to call Fabian Prewett, in his arms, the small baby had looked so helpless, and Harry had decided at that moment to name his son Albus Severus, a decision that Ginny still hadn't fully forgiven her husband for, and probably never would.

In Harry's defense, he hadn't known precisely what he had done when he gave his son the name he did. When Harry had said they could change it back, Ginny had sighed and said that magical name bindings were virtually impossible to break, so their son, for good or bad, was stuck with the awful name of Severus — she hadn't been upset in the least about the Albus part. She did vehemently object to any son of hers being called Severus, however, and Harry, being the one who _hadn't_ spent eight hours in labor, giving birth to a two-pound, premature baby, lost that fight.

It seemed he lost a lot of fights these days, especially when it came to his Auror-recruits.

Why did it seem beyond these Aurors-in-training to do what needed to be done? When he had been in training, Harry had worked hard to prove himself, but these young men and women didn't seem at all concerned about impressing anyone... who mattered, such as Harry or Kingsley. They (the wizards, in particular) quite liked that they could say to others that they were about to become Aurors, they just didn't want to do the laborious grunt-work that needed to be done in the pursuit of becoming an Auror. This laziness and disrespect completely baffled Harry, and he knew that if this group didn't get their act together, and quickly, only two of the ten were going to become Aurors. Since Harry had been an Auror, only two trainees hadn't made the final cut, but it seemed as though this year's Auror team would be significantly less than usual. Crime was once again increasing, thus a small Auror class would be a disappointment, but the disappointment would be doubled if incompetent Aurors were set loose to protect wizarding Europe. It was indeed a mess.

Forcing his work-related troubles to the back of his mind, again, Harry thought about Severus… er Al, baby Lily, and James: his three children never ceased to eradicate any stress that his job as an Auror caused, and he couldn't wait to see them…

Unfortunately, a red, blinking light coming from somewhere on his desk, that had begun to beep, indicated that there was trouble. Harry closed his eyes for a few seconds to regain a modicum of composure, then found the beeping contraption that would give him the message. He could only hope that Billings hadn't decided to resign, which the twenty-year-Auror had threatened to do for the past two months. If that were the case, then Harry was in for a long night, and Ginny would not be at all happy, and this was not a good time to make her unhappier than she already was.

Harry had no clue why he seemed so adept at making people unhappy; it wasn't as if he set out to do so, but he had left a trail of unhappy people in his wake, and each of them haunted him, especially Draco. He could only hope that Draco was now happy with Astoria and his son. Harry was finally at a happy place in his life with Ginny and his three children, and it was a pleasant change from the somber existence he and Ginny had led for the first few years of their marriage.

One night, almost two years earlier, Harry had been seconds away from cheating on Ginny with a witch (there would only ever be one wizard for Harry), and that had changed everything — as he'd returned home from the pub, where he had almost sold his soul to the devil, he'd vowed to be happy and to make a pleasant home for his family. He had, and after a few months, he'd begun to realize that his feelings for Ginny were increasing. Now he loved her and was in love with her. It had been a long time in coming, but everything worth having, at least for him, seemed to come only after much toil and trouble.

Unfortunately, it had probably been too little, too late. All he could do now was hope that Ginny wanted to work through their problems. He now wanted his marriage to work more than he wanted to be an Auror, and that was perhaps the biggest change that had come over Harry.

A year or two earlier, Harry wouldn't have much cared what his wife thought about him having to work late, because his work had been his life, but, now, he very much cared what Ginny thought, and he wanted his wife to be happy.

The small, silver recorder, now in his hand, indicated the sender, and Harry's heart plummeted: the message was from Andromeda.

He would have rather a message that Billings had resigned.

Andromeda never contacted Harry at work. This message was bad news — there was only one reason she would have contacted him at the Ministry.

_Teddy has been hurt and is in hospital. Get here as soon as possible._

Without thought, Harry sent his Patronus to Arthur with a message, and before he could react further, as if he had his head cut off (Ron's quite apt description of Harry when under immense stress), Arthur Flooed into Harry's office and told him that he would deal with the two Aurors, then poured his son-in-law a cup of tea and made him sit down and drink it. A heavy-breathing and pale Harry was almost positive that Arthur put something in the tea — probably a calming draught — but as he needed to calm down, he said nothing and silently thanked Merlin that his wife had such a levelheaded father who seemed to know what others needed, and when they needed it.

Reacting well under pressure had been agreeable with Harry in his younger years, but, with age, he seemed to lose that ability more and more. In reality, it was probable that in his youth he had been foolhardy and now he was merely normal, or so that is what he tried to believe. The more realistic explanation, however, was that he had simply become more impatient and unyielding when it came to accepting any type of drastic change.

After finishing his tea, a somewhat calmer, but not by much, Harry grabbed his cloak, Flooed Ginny and told her where he was going, then he Flooed to St. Mungo's. The witch at the front desk, who seemed to morph before his eyes from a disinterested overworked employee, to an over-excited fan girl, as she realized who Harry was, informed him that Teddy was in surgery, which sent him into near panic. What was he to do now? He needed to see Teddy. The first familiar face he saw was Hermione's — she looked exhausted, but she had also looked bleary the day before, when they had had a family dinner at the Burrow.

Having a newborn could definitely cause one to look as if they hadn't slept in days; Harry knew that all too well: Little Lily kept her mother and father up all hours of the night, then fell into a deep sleep for much of the day. It was completely maddening, but Harry wouldn't trade his constant tiredness for the world, and he knew Hermione felt the same. Still, she did look a bit more stressed than usual.

"What happened?" Harry asked as he sat in the chair next to Hermione, but then he promptly stood again; he was too keyed-up to remain stationary. "Andromeda didn't tell me what happened. Why is he in surgery? Did he fall? Is he going to be okay?" Hermione's frown increased, and sent Harry's heart into a tailspin. It was bad news.

"No one knows what happened. He and Victoire were playing outside behind the Burrow when Teddy screamed. We think something stung him and caused him to fall. By the time we got him here, he was unconscious. Victoire only just now quit crying; she is with Ron. Molly has Rose and Hugo."

The remainder of the afternoon passed in a blur. Teddy came out of surgery: the Healers said he was going to be okay, but he would have to stay in hospital for a few days for observation. He had been stung by a rather harmless creature, but the resulting fall had caused brain trauma. Fortunately, the Healers had been able to stop the bleeding before any permanent damage could take place.

Harry sat beside Teddy's bed and watched the nine-year-old sleep. Teddy looked so small and helpless, and Harry couldn't help but see a young Draco in Teddy. Teddy looked more and more like Remus every day, but he also resembled Draco a great deal, and Harry was happy about that. Teddy had meant a lot to Draco, who would be delighted to know that his cousin resembled him. It had been almost four years since Draco had seen Teddy, or, for that matter, since Harry had seen Draco.

How could so much time have elapsed? Harry could close his eyes and see him and Draco seated on Draco's bed, talking about Teddy and their days at Hogwarts. It was as if that conversation had taken place a week ago, yet it had been three and a half years since the day of Draco's wedding — since Harry had last seen the face of Draco Malfoy. Harry missed looking at and kissing that beautiful, creamy white, flawless skin, but each day it became a bit easier to wake up next to Ginny's freckled-covered body. He only wished Ginny felt the same about him. It was as if their roles were now reversing: Harry wanted Ginny, and Ginny didn't want him.

"Harry?" whispered someone.

No, thought Harry. No, Draco couldn't be here. Yet, there was no mistaking that whisper. Harry opened his eyes and stared across Teddy's bed: Draco was holding Teddy's hand, looking across the bed... at Harry, who was rendered speechless. "He's going to be okay," he finally managed to say when he saw Draco looking at Teddy sadly.

It was _uncomfortable_ seeing Draco: He had lost a bit more weight, and looked paler, but he was still the same Draco who brought out the same warm, loving, and arousing feelings in Harry that he had three and a half years earlier, and Harry wasn't at all chuffed about that. More than three years of marriage, and Harry was only now able to become aroused when Ginny asked him to have sex with her. With Draco, Harry had been in a constant state of arousal, and that still seemed to be the case today.

"What happened?" asked a concerned Draco as he moved some fringe away from the young boy's eyes. The love and protectiveness was evident. "Are you certain he is going to be okay, Harry? Please tell me the truth. I need to know."

In that moment, even though he and Draco hadn't shared more than a few words and minutes together, Harry knew that no matter how much he loved Ginny, and he did love her quite a lot, he would always love Draco more. It wasn't a realization he was happy about, but it was one that he accepted — he had no choice, really.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but still found it difficult to string two syllables together, much less two words. No matter his latest realization, to say that seeing Draco was an unpleasant surprise would be a vast understatement, even if his tightening trousers would seem to indicate otherwise. Harry had moved on with his life and did not wish to look back and remember what had been. Yes, his dreams often took him back to those memorable and wonderful days that the two had spent taking long walks, talking, and making love, but that was in sleep: In dreams, it was okay to live with and love Draco. This was reality, however, and there was no room for Draco Malfoy in Harry Potter's current reality.

Nonetheless, Draco was here and Harry would be fine… he had no choice. Regaining his composure, Harry defiantly told his libido to sod off and to come back when he got home and saw Ginny. Finally, able to speak, he chose his words and delivery carefully, hoping to keep his voice steady and formal. "He fell and had some serious damage done to his head. They got to it fast enough, though, so he should be okay. Andromeda can take him home in four days. The Healers said he might have a headache for a few more days, but they shouldn't be anything to worry about as long as he remains still for the next fortnight and has no other symptoms." Draco nodded, took one of Teddy's hands in his, and brought it to his lips. Harry's heart was about to burst, as was something else.

His trousers now in real jeopardy of revealing his unexpected erection (he had undone his robes and they were open, so he didn't even have those to help), Harry tried to conjure an image of his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia having sex, and it began to work. Harry smiled in relief — he hadn't wanted to have to imagine his aunt with his uncle's cock in her mouth. Oh... well, that completely alleviated the problem and Harry's trousers became substantially less annoying as they ceased to press against his now limp cock. Harry, now completely mortified that he had had to conjure such an image, was nonetheless relieved that Draco would never know how he had affected his former lover.

"Andromeda Flooed and asked me to come, Harry. That is why I'm here. I knew it would be a bad idea to see you, but Teddy means a lot to me and I wanted to be here for him and Andromeda," said Draco, matter-of-factly, his expression one that defied Harry to say anything against Draco's presence. "They are my family, after all," he then added, sadness now clearly evident on his face.

Harry nodded. Time really had moved on and the chill in the air was palpable. It was almost a given that Draco was having no less difficult a time than Harry, and that they both were putting on a show for the other, but that is what it was going to take to get through this, and Harry had no plans to change his demeanor. He had a life to protect. "I'm glad you're here. Teddy will be happy to see you." Harry finally allowed a small grin to appear as he recalled how much Teddy adored Draco.

"I can't stay long. Astoria and I are taking our son, Scorpius, to have his portrait made at six this evening."

Draco had named his son Scorpius? "You didn't forget," came out in an almost whisper. Harry wished Draco had forgotten, or at least that he hadn't said anything; it hurt Harry to know that Draco had kept his word regarding naming his son, yet Harry had nothing at all to do with Draco's son, and never would. He looked down at Teddy and wished he could leave. He didn't wish to be reminded of everything again.

"You thought I would forget?" Draco asked as he looked at Harry, his now blue-ish grey eyes looking sad and tired. "You didn't forget what I said about wanting a son named Severus, so why do you think I would forget about you naming my son Scorpius?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders as he wondered if Draco's health was good or not; he didn't look very healthy, and Harry wanted to know how his magic was, but he had no right to ask, so he didn't. "I thought you were simply being kind when you said you would name your son Scorpius."

A vociferous shake of the head was Draco's initial response, and his face reflected his hurt. "After all we went through, please do not tell me that you have forgotten everything, Harry. I haven't, and never will. I have done many questionable things in my life, but my time with you was one thing I will never question. I have moved on and am very happy and very much in love with my wife, but it has not been easy, nor will it ever be. I am reminded of you constantly. I wanted to name my son Scorpius because he is the reason I am as happy as I am. He makes me smile daily and he shows me that I did make the right decision. Just as you surely love your three children more than life, so do I, my child. I would do anything for my son, Harry. It is important to me that you understand that I named my son what I did because you named him. I told you I would name him that and I did." Draco continued staring at Harry for at least a minute, then his head turned toward the chair that was against the window, where Harry's cloak was lying, revealing the silver-clasp. "I see you haven't forgotten what we meant to each other, so why do you think I would have?"

Harry sighed, not wishing for these memories to be brought to the surface, but knowing he had no choice. At least they were good memories: The day that he had tried on his wedding robes — the day Draco had been in Madam Malkin's with him, he had bought a pair of silver-clasps, and he'd given one to Draco on their last night together. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that you had forgotten about us; that wasn't at all what I meant." As Harry finished speaking, he watched Draco reach into his right pocket and retrieve the familiar silver-clasp. Draco held it reverently between his thumb and index finger and attempted a grin, or so that is what it looked like to Harry, but he failed, then he placed the clasp back in his pocket. As sad and wrong as it was, Harry felt immense relief. Draco hadn't forgotten, and even as Draco seemed happy in his personal life, something that Harry had hoped for, he now knew that Draco would never forget the past. "I'm glad that you're happy, Draco." Harry tried to give Draco a smile, to let him know that he was sincere in his words, but he couldn't. He wanted to be as happy as Draco, and he wasn't. Harry had an idea that that fact hadn't escaped Draco's intense scrutiny; they had never been able to hide their true feelings and emotions from one another.

"You're not happy; I can tell," Draco said, his voice now not much more than a whisper as he looked toward the window. "I need you to be happy, Harry," was said in a somewhat louder voice.

All Harry could do was nod. Draco did know him better than anyone else. "I think Ginny wants a divorce." He watched as Draco's head whipped around, and he saw the defiance in Draco's face. For the first time, Harry saw Lucius Malfoy in his son, and it was disconcerting.

"No. Don't you dare ask me what I think you might. Don't you dare," was Draco's curt reply, and his face began to morph into more anger with each word. "I am happy and you will not take that away from me, Harry Potter."

In all their time together, Draco hadn't ever spoken with such vitriol: His face contorted into a grimace and he looked pained. There had been a time when Harry would have gone to Draco and comforted him, and he wanted to do that now. Draco had to be hurting badly, and Harry felt horrible. "I want to work things out with Ginny. I love her and my children very much and do not want to get a divorce, Draco. This is not what I want, but it is what Ginny wants, or I think it is; she hasn't made up her mind yet. Believe me, I am trying to change her mind." And really, Harry was — he didn't want to fail at his marriage, and he was willing to do whatever it took to keep his family together. "But regardless of what happens between Ginny and me, I would never ask you to give up what you have for me." Had Harry thought about it? Certainly, but he had known that he'd never ever ask Draco to take him back. He would live alone and be miserable before he would ever ask Draco back. If anyone did the asking, it would have to be Draco. Harry had done so much wrong and had caused such grief for Draco — he had no right to ever ask Draco back.

"Good, because I am not yours anymore, Harry. I closed that chapter over three years ago, and you know… you know that I would… I can't, Harry. Don't make me choose, please." The anguish was evident in Draco's voice.

"Don't worry, Draco. I'll never ask you to choose." Draco's expression now looked more pained than ever. What was Harry to do? There was no way he could win in this situation; someone was going to end up hurt… four adults had already been hurt and now there were four innocent Malfoy and Potter children to add to that number. Harry looked down at Teddy — another innocent child who had been hurt.

Draco kissed Teddy on the forehead, gave Harry a slight nod, then left.


	14. Chapter 14

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 14/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 6,087  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst, **mentions of OC deaths - quite emotional**  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Fourteen**:

"Daddy?" asked the almost two-year-old son of Draco and Astoria Malfoy as he climbed into his father's lap and wiggled around until he got comfortable. "Can I ask question?" He then began playing with the ring on his father's ring finger, and tried to slide it off, but stopped when his father whispered for him to leave it on. Scorpius's lip quivered; he wasn't accustomed to being told no when he played with his daddy's ring, but when a small ring was placed in his hand, the little boy's expression changed into a huge grin. "Oh, Daddy! Wing like yours! Pwetty. Thank you!" He then hugged his father before putting the ring on his finger. "It fits," he said as he dangled it in front of his face — he had always gotten upset when the larger ring would fall off of his finger.

"It fits perfectly, Scorpius." Draco had initially been against the idea of the ring for Scorpius; he had worried that such a present was a bit extravagant for a not even two-year-old little boy, but his wife had insisted they get it since Scorpius had been fascinated with the gold wedding ring that Draco wore. Draco had relented, and Astoria had had it made in Rome. It had cost a small fortune, but Draco now thought the expenditure had been well worth it just to see his son's huge smile — there hadn't been a lot to smile about recently, and even if the ring ended up in the dirt somewhere, or down a drain, which Draco was sure it would, that would be okay. Draco had lost more than his fair share of expensive jewelry over the years. "You can't wear it all the time, only on special occasions, but you can keep it on today," he added when his son opened his mouth to protest.

"Can I wear it to bed?" asked the now animated little Malfoy, his large, blue eyes showing how happy he was.

"No, now what is the question you wanted to ask?" enquired Draco as his son turned around and faced him, a serious look on his little face. Draco tried to prepare himself: His son was at the age where every utterance out of his mouth was a question — _why_ or _how_. It was natural for children to be curious, and Draco and his wife tried to foster their son's growing vocabulary and interest about anything other than sticking objects into his mouth, but the constant barrage of questions could get tiresome, especially for Draco, who rarely knew how to answer his son. Astoria was great at it, but Draco… well, he was pants when it came to answering his son's inquiries. Just the other day Scorpius had asked Astoria why there were poor people and rich people and who decided who was going to be rich? Draco thought his wife had handled the question admirably, but her answer had led to other questions from their son. It was a never-ending cycle that drove Draco spare at times, but, as his own mother reminded him, he had once been the one doing the asking, and Narcissa was only too willing to share her _Little Draco_ stories with Astoria.

"Why you and Mummy talking so loud this morning?"

"Did we wake you?" Draco asked, not at all sure how to answer his son. His son's nod elicited a sigh from Draco. He had told Astoria to calm down because she was going to wake Scorpius, but she had continued her yelling. "We didn't mean to wake you, Scorpius. We will talk softer in future, okay?" His son's face didn't change, and Draco knew his son was not at all dumb. He knew that his parents had been arguing.

"Mummy sad because of Bella, isn't she?"

Draco was sure his face had just lost all of its blood. How was it that this little boy, who was just now beginning to talk in sentences, and who had just now become potty-trained, could read his mother and father so well? Draco opened his mouth to try to respond to his son's inquiry, but voices alerted him to the fact that his wife was home, and he knew that within a few seconds, his son would be scrambling to the door to greet her. Sure enough, as soon as Scorpius heard his mother's voice, that little face that Draco loved so much, broke out into a huge grin as he climbed out of his father's lap and ran toward the door, his question of a few seconds earlier, seemingly forgotten. Draco was not daft enough to think his son had forgotten, however, and he knew that he and his wife needed to sit down with Scorpius and talk to him. Yes, he was not even two, and what they could tell him was limited, but even a young child deserved the truth on a level they could understand.

As Draco stood to go help Astoria and Eugenie (Astoria's best friend, and Scorpius's godmother) bring everything inside, he looked around the sitting room and had a momentary bout of regret for his lack of cleanliness and neatness — at least ten toys littered the large room; two empty bags, half-filled with crisps, and an almost full box of juice, were on the sofa, and dirty clothes were in a pile by the kitchen, awaiting their turn to be washed. Astoria would have a fit when she saw the house in such a state, but Draco didn't mind the messiness: His mother and father had been obsessive about keeping their home immaculate, and that had prevented Draco from having fun as a child. He did like a nice and presentable home, but he was not going to scoff at a few toys left here and there, and the occasional bag of crisps that remained opened on the sofa was not a problem for him. There were more important battles to be fought. Draco had learned the hard way that the small things in life were just that… small. They didn't much matter.

His momentary worry about what his wife would think passed, and Draco entered the kitchen to see his wife picking up their son and hugging him. Draco grinned. He really did have the family he had always dreamt of.

"Mummy!" yelled Scorpius as his mother kissed him. "Did you bring me anything?"

"Hello, my little Scorpius. Did you and Daddy have a fun day today?" asked Astoria as her son wrapped his tiny arms around her neck and nodded. She glanced at her husband, who nodded, then turned her head toward her friend. Eugenie retrieved a baby Crup from the blanket she had been holding and handed it to Astoria after she set down Scorpius. "Daddy and I decided that since you have been such a good boy, we would get you the Crup that you have been asking for." Astoria then set the dog down in front of Scorpius. "Her name is—"

"Fang!" said Scorpius. "Can I name her Fang, Mummy?"

Astoria looked at her husband and shook her head while rolling her eyes, but grinned as she looked down at her son, who was now playing with the small Crup. "You may call her whatever you wish, love. Did Daddy give you your ring?"

"Yes, look, it is shiny, just like Daddy's!"

A snort from the door let Draco know that Eugenie was probably shaking her head as she watched her best friend spoil her son, and Draco didn't blame her, even though he perpetuated the way his wife indulged their son. No child should be able to receive things so easily; it wasn't right, but he knew it was to compensate for other things that he didn't think he was capable of giving, such as love. He loved his son more than he loved himself, but he felt inadequate at being a father, and he thought that maybe if he bought his son's affections, that would make things good between them. Astoria was forever telling her husband that he was a wonderful father and that he had enough love for a houseful of children. He wanted to believe her, but he couldn't.

"He loves the two of you so much; you don't need to buy his love," said Eugenie as she grabbed hold of the doorknob. "Well, I have a dinner party to go to. I'll see the three of you tomorrow."

"Bye, Eug," said Astoria; she seemed to ignore the other part of what her friend said, because there is no way that she hadn't heard Eugenie's words.

For the next two hours, while Scorpius and Fang became acquainted, Draco helped his wife put up what she had bought, and they talked about what Eugenie had said. Both agreed to cease the gifts, but both also knew that words were meaningless and actions were all that mattered. Scorpius would continue to benefit — or not — from his parents' insecurities. At least he was a happy boy and did have his parents' complete attention almost one hundred percent of the time. No one would ever be able to claim that Draco and Astoria didn't pay attention to their son.

After Fang fell asleep, Draco and his wife watched their son, who had just gotten his first toy broom, a few weeks earlier, fly around the room — only a foot or two off of the ground, but high enough to make his parents nervous. Draco, who at two years of age had fallen off of his toy broom and ended up in hospital because of it, could barely watch as his son landed.

As Draco's carbon-copy landed in front of him and gave him a huge grin, Draco had a sudden flash of… well, not exactly déjà vu, because what he was thinking about had not happened to him, but the flash of memory, or whatever it was, was of what it might have been like in the Potter household the night Harry's parents had been killed. Harry had been flying the toy broom that Draco had seen when he and Harry had gone to Godric's Hollow, and Draco knew that Harry's parents had to have been smiling, laughing, and clapping, much the same as he and Astoria were doing now. It was a strange sensation, and Draco had to make himself stop thinking about it when he realized his breathing was speeding up. He had never had an experience close to this and it startled him and made him feel all the sadder for Harry, who had only had a mother and a father for fifteen months. Draco looked at Scorpius and couldn't even imagine not being here to see his son, and for his son not to have parents. That would have to be so scary, and Draco knew that Harry must have been scared a lot. It wasn't anything Draco wished to ponder too long, however, and he made himself cease those thoughts.

"Are you okay, Draco?" asked Astoria as she motioned for her son to give her the broom.

"Yeah, I'm fine; just a bit tired is all. I think I'm going to go have a shower, then go to bed. I think sleep will help." Draco always felt foolish when these spells hit him; he was an adult, a husband, a parent, and he shouldn't get so worked up and need to rest, yet he did and had no choice. If he wanted to remain healthy, or as healthy as he could, he needed to rest when his body felt tired.

"Yeah, that'll be good, but I need to talk to you before you go to bed; it's important," said Astoria as she picked up her son, then kissed Draco on the lips.

"What is it?" Draco asked, but he thought he knew what it was… or at least he knew what it was about, and he didn't want to even think about what his wife was going to ask him to do. He had gotten off rather easy thus far, but he thought he was about to pay for that easy road.

"Go have your shower and let me put the baby down for the night, then we can talk."

Draco did just that, and when he emerged from the bathroom, half an hour later, he felt much better, and could only hope that what his wife had to ask him would not reverse his good feelings. Unfortunately, Astoria was holding the calendar, and she was looking at the month of May: Given the year, that could only mean one thing. Draco cleared his throat and shook his head when his wife looked up at him. She knew how much this was going to upset her husband, yet she was going to ask… wasn't she? She had promised that Draco would not have to participate in the ceremonies, but now she was changing her mind. "The answer is no."

"But you don't even know what I was going to ask, Draco."

"I do, and you know why I can't go. I know that this is important to you; you've been working for two years on this _celebratory_ day. I can't tell you how proud I am of you. It's going to be a great success, only I won't be there. I just can't, Astoria." As far as Draco was concerned, this conversation was over. He walked to the bed, pulled back the duvet, and climbed in. "Are you coming to bed now or later?"

"Are you too tired to have sex?" asked Astoria as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"Yeah," Draco replied as he closed his eyes.

"Then later, but I still need to ask you a question. I'm going to check on Scorpius, and I'll be back in ten minutes. It won't take long, then you can go to bed."

Draco sighed. He knew that he'd not be going to bed anytime soon, and as he watched his wife leave their room, he tried to prepare himself, but there was no way to do so. He was going to have to do what his wife asked, and it was already killing him.

Celebrating or recognizing anniversaries and important dates had never been high on Draco's priority list: He preferred to look forward and not reminisce about past happenings that did nothing but bring up bad memories. His past was one he didn't particularly wish to think about, and there was nothing at all to be gained by looking back… nothing other than heartache and regret.

Astoria, of course, felt quite differently about anniversaries, and she never let Draco forget a single anniversary of theirs: of their first date, of their first kiss, of their first time to make love, of their engagement, of their wedding, of their conception of Scorpius, and on and on. At first, Draco had gone along with the idea of placating his wife; it was what a good husband did, according to his father, but a few months earlier, when his wife had begun marking anniversaries of the triplets, Draco knew that things had to change. He had and would continue to put up with more than he wished to because he did love his wife very much, but he could only take so much, which was less than most because of his weakened body. Stress and he did not go at all well together, and the Healers had insisted that he stay away from stressful situations. It was just unfortunate that stress and him seemed to coexist as a rule — as if that were the way he had been born — to have stress be a natural part of his life.

Losing his little girl had been the most difficult thing Draco had ever been through, and it had nearly killed him — literally — but it hadn't. Losing her had been worse than watching Harry leave him, and he didn't wish to be reminded that he now knew what it felt like to watch someone die. Harry had once told him that you didn't know what love was until you watched someone you love die. Draco had tried to understand, but he hadn't been able to. Now he understood all too well, and what Harry had said was true.

Draco had watched his daughter die, but he had also lost two other children.

Number One died in the first trimester, and Number Two, in the second. Draco had mourned both losses along with his wife, but he had never held them in his arms, and they had never been real… to him. They had been real to his wife, and he understood that, but to him, they had never truly been a part of him. Bella Eileen, on the other hand, had been a part of him; she had become a part of him the second she was born. Her first cry had Draco's heart and he had known he'd never get it back. She died ten minutes after her birth, in her daddy's arms.

Draco couldn't stand to think about the triplets — it hurt far too much, and Astoria never failed to remind him of the place where she first felt them kick; of the moment when she could no longer feel the second one, and of the look in his eyes as Draco held his daughter in his arms as she died.

Now, whenever Astoria began to speak about the babies, Draco would shake his head and she would stop… until the next time she thought about an anniversary of some sort. Draco knew his wife needed to remember; he knew it helped her, and he was glad that it did. He only wished that it helped him. He wanted it to help. He wanted to think about his daughter and be able to smile, but each time he thought of her, he cried, which was understandable, but that didn't make it any easier. What did make it easier was if he could just not think about what he had almost had. He wanted to think about what he had, and nothing else. That was the safest route to take, and Draco so desperately needed and wanted to steer his life in that direction.

Unfortunately, there were events such as reunions and anniversaries that made it rather difficult to forget about the past.

Astoria, now back from checking on Scorpius, was now looking at her husband with one of her, _I know you don't want to do this, but will you do it because you love me?_ looks. Draco was damned, he knew.

"As you know, we have been finalizing plans for May first and second."

Draco nodded. All sorts of events had been scheduled for those two days, and as Astoria was the head of the committee that was planning it all, Draco had found himself reluctantly running errands for the big event that he dreaded more than he could ever tell his wife. He had done this reluctantly, but he had done it. He had been adamant, however, about the fact that he refused to attend a single one of the festivities. His wife, parents, in-laws, friends, and others had tried to change his mind, but he had been firm in his refusal, and nothing or no one was going to change his mind… well, there was one person who could do so, but that person would not ask, so Draco didn't have to worry about that.

All of his hard work and planning were about to unravel into a frayed mess, and Draco knew that he was going to end up hurt. Why was it him who always got hurt?

"I know you don't want to, and I know your reasons why, but I need your help, Draco. I wouldn't ask unless it were important."

All Draco could do was nod. To most people, this ten-year-anniversary was a glorious thing, a celebration of all that was good in the world. To Draco, this anniversary was not to be celebrated, but mourned. Yes, the downfall of the Dark Lord had been a great thing, but Draco had lost dear friends and mentors, and it had been an end of his innocent life. Almost daily, there were reminders of how close he had come to being among the dead. That he was alive was a miracle, yet he did not dare celebrate such a thing. He had changed that night, and no one would ever know how much. "What do you need me to do?" Draco forced himself to sit up, but he felt a bout of dizziness, so he lay back down.

"Harry Potter refuses to attend the dedication ceremony."

And so he had been right. This was about Harry. It was always about Harry. Everything in Draco's life seemed to revolve around Harry. Draco had finally found a place where he felt free from Harry — his wife and his son were his refuge from Harry. But now his wife was asking him to once again bring Harry into his life, and she knew exactly what she was asking. She knew what a risk she was taking, and she knew what a strain she was placing on her husband. "You knew he would, Astoria. He has never wanted to look back, and neither do I. Ten years might seem a long enough time to you, but you have no idea, love. It was traumatic what we went through and I know that Harry does not wish to relive that night."

"He would come if you asked him to," was Astoria's rather curt reply, her face not hiding the fact that she knew how cutting her words were.

Draco's mouth fell open, but no words came. Astoria surely hadn't just asked him to ask Harry Potter for something, had she? She knew… there was no way she would ever ever ever ask her husband to have anything to do with Harry Potter. It had been her, after all, who had given Draco that one last chance to see Harry, but no more after that. Draco hadn't even mentioned that he had seen Harry when Teddy had been in hospital because the idea of Harry and Draco still made his wife upset. This being the case, Draco was at a loss as to this latest request. "No, I won't ask him, Astoria. I would do just about anything for you, but this, I can't. Please understand." Draco hadn't been successful at keeping his voice calm and neutral, as he had tried to do; he had never been able to hide his emotions from Astoria. He had learned that bad habit from Harry.

"If he doesn't attend, Draco—"

"I don't care if no one shows up, I am not going to ask Harry to attend. Don't ask me again, Astoria."

"You still love him, don't you?"

His wife's voice was calm and her expression now soft and loving. Draco again wondered why she stayed with him. He did love her, very much, but yes, he still loved the man who had taken a part of his heart almost ten years ago. He could lie, but why? His wife knew the truth. "Yes, but that is not why I won't ask him to attend the festivities. There are horrors that he faced, Astoria, ones that neither you, me, nor anyone else can ever imagine. You weren't the one to try to calm him down after a nightmare where he watched his godfather die, and you weren't there when he broke down and cried for an hour over Snape — over Snape, Astoria! Harry hated him all during our years at Hogwarts, and now that he knows the truth about Severus, it kills him that he didn't know until it was too late. He has cried in my arms about it, so no, I will not ask him to attend." Draco wasn't crying, but he was shaking, and knew that tears were probably not far away. He watched his wife stand, walk to the door, and open it.

"The both of you need to face your past, Draco — not the one with one another — the one you spent against one another. Please ask him to come, Draco. This is not about you or me, but about the wizarding world. Harry represents so much to so many people. Without him, there will be no celebrations, and we do need something to celebrate, and you know that. There have been sightings of possible Inferi and Dementors in nearby villages. People are getting scared, Draco."

Yes, Draco knew all too well about the recent happenings. "And you think he can alleviate that fear just by showing his face at some celebration? Come on, Astoria, you are not daft. Harry is not going to heal all of the ills of the world. He was the one who defeated Voldemort, but he didn't want to be that person. He just so happened to have a stupid prophecy interpreted to say that he was the baby, but maybe he wasn't. Regardless, he grew up with this huge responsibility and cloud hanging over him. He did what he had to do, but he shouldn't have to be put on display again just because there is someone else out there who wants to have a repeat performance." Draco had to calm himself. It never did him any good to become too worked up.

"Draco, do you want your son to be targeted? Like it or not, there are those people who are aware of what went on between you and Harry. What if it is them who are trying to get power now? If Harry can help, then you have to get him to help, because I refuse to allow my son to be hurt because of something you did."

Draco shook his head and wanted to scream; he could feel himself getting weaker, yet he continued to speak. "And you think having him and me in the same room will help? I just told you that I still love him, Astoria. The only thing keeping him and me apart is my family. I love you so very much, and Scorpius… well, he is my world. I would do anything for the two of you, and I do not want to tear our family apart. I have resolve, but I don't want it tested. Can't you understand that?" Draco was desperate.

"You owe this to your son, Draco. If you love him, you will get Harry to come to the celebrations." Astoria then left the room.

Draco stared at the closed door and began to shake more violently.

The following day he owled Harry and asked him to attend the dedication and, as he knew would happen, Harry did not refuse him.

The days leading up to May first were tense, and Draco and his son spent many days out walking, playing, and flying their brooms. Of course, Scorpius could only fly two feet off the ground, but Draco had the time of his life telling his son all about famous Quidditch moves and players, and when his son asked him if he could play when he got older, Draco grinned and told his son that he would be an amazing Quidditch player.

The night before Draco and Astoria left for Hogsmeade, as they were putting their son to bed, Draco sat on the edge of the bed and thought carefully before he spoke. His word choice would be important. Earlier in the day, Scorpius had asked if his daddy had fought in the battle that everyone was talking about. Draco, shocked, had looked at his wife, who then told him that some people in the nearby village had been speaking about the celebrations that were to begin the following day. Draco had made some excuse not to answer his son, but now he wanted to, he just wasn't sure how to go about doing so.

"Do you remember when you asked me earlier today if I had fought in that battle?" asked a nervous Draco. Scorpius nodded his head, but said nothing. His blue eyes darted between his mother and father. "I did fight in it. There were several of us who fought in it, Scorpius." Draco watched as his son's eyes seemed to get bigger.

"Did you get hurted?"

A glance to his wife, a slight grin later, and he shook his head. "No, son, I was not hurt. Possibly a bit bruised and sore, but not hurt. Plenty of others were, though." Was he saying too much? His son was not quite two. How much could a two-year-old understand?

"Some lady said that people dieded."

Another look toward his wife, who now looked a bit worried, and Draco knew that this conversation needed to end soon. His son would one day learn everything, more than even Draco would wish him to know, but for now, he was a little boy who did not need to know what horrors his father had witnessed. "Yes, there were people who died, Scorpius, but I was not hurt. Now, I think it is time for a little boy, called Scorpius Malfoy, to go to sleep. We've had a busy day, and you and Eugenie are going to have a picnic tomorrow, so you need to get plenty of rest."

"Are you and Mummy going with us on our picnic?"

"No, this is a special picnic only for little boys and their godmothers. Parents aren't allowed." Draco said this last bit with a frown on his face, and received the response he had wanted to from his son.

"It's okay, Daddy, I'll bring you and Mummy something."

Draco leaned over and kissed his son, who then reached up and hugged his father to him.

"I glad you weren't hurted or killded."

It was raining when Draco appeared at Hogwarts, and as he had forgotten to shield himself from the weather, that had only turned bad after he and Astoria had arrived in Hogsmeade, he was soaked by the time he entered the castle. He was in the process of removing his rain-saturated cloak when he heard the familiar voice behind him.

"I see you haven't changed. You know how important it is for you to stay warm and dry, Draco."

Draco turned as he removed his cloak and shoes, and it was as if no time had elapsed since they had last been together, but they were four children (actually seven) removed from the last time they had made love. And much more than children separated them now. Draco had to compose himself. Seeing Harry at hospital hadn't been anywhere near as jarring as this meeting, and Draco didn't quite understand why. "I don't think a little rain will hurt, Harry," replied a defensive Draco as he tried hard to keep his expression and voice even. He had a marriage to protect, and Harry did as well.

"You are just as stubborn as ever, Draco. Come with me. I have some dry shoes and clothes you can change into," was Harry's reply.

Draco reluctantly followed, and a few minutes later, he donned a pair of dry trousers, a shirt, shoes, and one of Harry's robes. They were a bit big, but Harry shrank them to fit Draco's dwindling frame. It felt odd, but so very nice to be wearing Harry's clothes again. There had been a time when the two had worn each other's clothes daily. It wasn't a thought Draco wished to dwell on.

"How are you feeling? You don't look so great. Astoria knows that you are not to be out in bad weather like this, doesn't she?" asked Harry as he sat on the bed in the guest room that he and Ginny were staying in.

"It wasn't raining until we got to Hogsmeade, and yes, she knows, Harry. She is my wife." Draco glared at Harry. How dare he question his wife's concern.

"Well, she should have made sure you shielded yourself, then."

"Look, Harry, I'm fine, okay? Neither Astoria nor I have had the best of days thus far, and I don't feel like getting into it with you now. Let's just get through these two days and be on our merry ways, okay?" Draco turned toward the door when it opened, and watched his wife enter the room, a frown on her face. Draco wanted to scream. This was wonderful, absolutely bloody wonderful! "Harry loaned me some dry clothes. Let's go; we need to meet with Pansy and Angelina." Draco didn't want to, but he looked back at Harry, and didn't miss the slight nod.

During the welcoming ceremony, Draco began to feel feverish, and he felt worse as the hour grew later. He tried to pay attention to the speakers, Harry, in particular. No matter that he had had harsh words for him, that in no way diminished the feelings Draco had for Harry. He applauded whenever Harry said something worthy of applause, and bowed his head in respect when Harry asked everyone to observe a moment of silence for the fallen. Draco thought of Snape, and knew that Harry was doing the same.

After the speeches ended, Draco, feeling worse, attempted to respond to everyone who spoke to him, but he felt as if he were in a fog. It wasn't until Astoria approached him an hour after the last speaker that he knew something serious was wrong with him; he had tried convincing himself that he wasn't really that ill, but one look at his wife, and he knew he was. Astoria found Harry and asked him to take Draco up to the Headmistress's office. She asked no more than that, but Draco knew that her sparse words had more meaning.

When Draco next awoke, Ginny Potter was seated next to him, holding a wet flannel to his forehead. She looked worried. Draco wanted to speak, but had no idea what to say. What must she be thinking? Did she even know about Harry and him?

"You are quite ill, Draco. You've been asleep for two days."

Draco continued to look up into Ginny's brown eyes. His throat was so very dry. He pointed to it and tried to nod his thanks when Ginny helped him drink from a water goblet.

"Harry had to go to work, and the headmistress had a meeting. Astoria is with the kids, and I said I'd sit with you until Harry gets off work."

"Why?" was all Draco could muster. His voice sounded weak, and he felt even weaker. "Why is Harry the one caring for me? Why isn't my wife taking care of me?" Ginny smiled — she really was quite pretty now that Draco thought about it.

"He is the only one who seems to be able to help you. You do okay during the day, but at night, Harry is the only one who can calm you. Believe me, we've tried everything. You cried when Astoria tried to care for you the other night."

"Sorry," was about as much as Draco could say. He closed his eyes.

"Don't be. I guess you can't help it that you love Harry. He is a lovable person. I just wish he loved me," was Ginny's response as she dabbed Draco's forehead with a clean flannel. "Now you need to try to get some sleep."

Draco nodded his head and tried with everything he had to not allow that errant tear to fall. He was unsuccessful and felt as a small finger wiped it away. He wanted so badly to say something, but even if he could talk, he had no idea what he would say.

When his eyes next opened, Harry was sleeping next to him, one of his arms lying protectively over Draco. His long eyelashes, his small perfect mouth, his elegantly posh nose, and his creamy, white skin: it was what Draco had missed waking up to, and it is what he would miss again. Draco closed his eyes and allowed Harry's breathing to put him to sleep.

As he Disapparated away from Hogwarts, Draco thought he had probably made the biggest mistake of his life by returning to Hogwarts. As he had predicted, he had been hurt. Now there was no way he could forget what had happened. He was going to be forever in love with Harry, and not even his wife and son could be enough for him.

He would never leave them, however. He had taken a vow and refused to even consider going against it.

This was one more reason to hate anniversaries.


	15. Chapter 15

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 15/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 6,084  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

Reason Number Fifteen:

Harry waved to his kids as he walked toward the house, and smiled when his youngest yelled out, "Hi, Daddy!" She looked as if she were about to climb the tree that James had fallen from a year earlier, and Harry's inclination was to tell her to stay away from it, but he heeded Ginny's advice, and kept silent. He and Ginny had warned their daughter plenty of times to be careful when climbing trees and doing other things that made her parents cringe with worry, thus he had to trust that she would. Of course, the last time he had trusted that a child of his would heed their warnings, Albus Severus had ended up bitten by a snake, which had sent Harry into all sorts of panic. The snake hadn't been poisonous, and the bite had been on Al's hand, so it was not nearly as bad as it could have been. Still, it had been more than enough excitement for a lifetime, and Harry hoped there would be no other similarities between Al and the man he had been named after.

A bird chirped twice, as if trying to get Harry's attention and welcome him home after a long day at work, and it made him smile. He looked up toward the partly-cloudy sky and breathed in the fresh, summer air — the sunshine and mild temperature was a pleasant respite from the endless cold, dreary rain that had pelted most of England for the past two months, and the laughs and sounds of his children playing was a sound he wished he could hear more often. There was only so much to do inside on a rainy day, and three kids the ages that James, Albus Severus, and Lily were, were difficult to keep entertained.

As he entered the house, he heard Ginny talking to Hermione in the kitchen, and wondered what the two were chatting about today. The previous afternoon he had walked in to find them looking at a wedding robe catalog that belonged to Victoire, and the two had been ogling the robes as if they were the young brides-to-be. Harry had merely chuckled and said they reminded him of two teenaged girls. Little had he known that he'd be rewarded for such a comment a few hours later.

He smiled thinking about his reward.

Reward or not, the wedding that would be taking place in little less than a year was one that Harry was not at all ready for, but, he had no choice it seemed — Teddy and Victoire were to be married the following June, a few weeks after Victoire finished her seventh year at Hogwarts. That Teddy was old enough to be married was scary and made Harry feel really old, but that wasn't the only sign that he was no longer nineteen and in excellent shape. Time really didn't stop for anyone, and Harry lamented those days of long ago.

Grey hairs had begun appearing with more frequency over the past few months. Ginny had been on him to charm his hair back to its former color, but Harry had refused. It's not that he liked the grey hair, but it was who he was now, so why should he hide what nature was doing? If Ginny kept on him, however, he knew he'd eventually have the trademark black, messy hair that _Harry Potter_ was famous for. Besides the grey hairs, he had noticed that he now had wrinkles around his eyes, and his face seemed to be losing its battle against gravity. And, as if those changes weren't enough to be going on with, the biggest change — the one he was the least pleased about — he was finding that he was not nearly as agile as he had once been. Just the previous night, when Ginny and he had made love multiple times (part of his reward), Harry had had to ask his wife to stop, so he could lie down on his back. That had never happened in his younger years, and it was a rather depressing development, but he guessed he should be thankful that he could have sex at all. That ability would more than likely one day be gone as well. Getting old was hell.

But at least he still had his health.

Draco was not at all healthy. For health reasons alone, Harry received frequent updates on him by way of the Aurors who were stationed near Portugal. Apparently, he had been in hospital for a fortnight a few months earlier. Astoria had contacted Harry and asked him to come see Draco, but Harry had declined; it had been one of the hardest decisions he had ever made, but it really had been for the best. Neither of them would have benefited in any way from Harry visiting him, and in fact, Harry had a very good idea that a visit from him would have served to hurt them both. Harry had hurt Draco enough. And it wasn't as if Draco were in imminent danger of dying or anything that dire. He was ill, and weak, and according to Astoria, he could no longer do anything stressful (Harry hadn't asked, but he had got the impression that Astoria was hinting that she and her husband never had sex anymore), but he wasn't going anywhere… or so that is what Harry was depending on. If anything ever happened to Draco… well, Harry couldn't even ponder such a thing.

Hearing Hermione's familiar laugh, Harry set down the work he'd brought home, then entered the kitchen to see the two seated at the table, reading something in the _Prophet_. Neither acknowledged his entrance, but after he Summoned a butterbeer and sat beside Ginny, she turned and smiled at him, although it seemed forced. Harry wondered what that had been about. He should have known that their perfect night wouldn't last. "What happened?" he asked when Hermione looked up from the paper, a grimace on her face.

"You don't want to know, trust me," she said as she shook her head and set down the paper as if it were made of poison. "It's not good news. Well, I should get home; Hugo should be back by now. The four of us are going to Surrey for the night. Ron says to give him a call tomorrow, Harry; he needs directions on how to do something. I think the two of you already discussed what it is."

Harry Summoned the tin of biscuits toward him and nodded. "Yeah, we did. Tell him I'll be in Windsor most of the day, but I'll call him as soon as I get back. It might be late."

"Did you catch Griffin?" asked a hopeful looking Hermione as she grabbed her cloak and headed toward the door.

"No, but we got Evans and Davenport. I have a lead on Griffin, though; that is why I'll be in Windsor all day."

"Good. He is bad news: stole some equipment from Ron's uncle a few years ago, so I'm glad they might be about to catch up to him."

After Hermione left, Harry watched Ginny stand and walk over to the counter and begin to prepare supper. There was something off; she didn't seem her usual self. Normally, the first thing she did when he entered the kitchen was kiss him, even if it was only on the forehead or cheek. What had he done wrong now?

"Mail's on the table by _The Quibbler_. We're having roasted chicken, but the kids didn't eat much of their lunch, so there's curry if you would rather that," said Ginny as she put away the clean dishes with a little more force than was needed. "Lily needs to speak to you; she says it is private and she can't tell me. It's probably nothing, but you know how she gets. She's as stubborn as you and James, and gets more so each day. I can only hope that Al doesn't decide to follow suit. He does seem to be _following in your footsteps_, though, so I am guessing he'll be as stubborn as the others."

At that last comment, which definitely had a bit of an edge to it, Harry set down the stack of mail he had just picked up, and stared at his wife's back. Surely she hadn't just… but he knew she had. Her comment hadn't merely been about their son's stubbornness. Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, not wanting to face this, but knowing he had no choice.

Al had been exhibiting signs that were rather feminine for several years, and although the boy was not even eleven yet, Harry knew what signs to look for, and they were all there. Perhaps this was only a phase and his son would end up liking girls, but Harry had an idea that that wouldn't happen. "I'll talk to Lily after we eat. And about Al, if he does… er follow in my footsteps, what will your advice to him be?" Harry didn't want this discussion to turn into a shouting match, like it usually did when they discussed his homosexuality (Well he was technically bi-sexual, but Ginny and he both knew that if he could be with one particular wizard, there would be no females anywhere near.). Ginny had always been open-minded, and Harry knew that if their son were gay, then Ginny would support him completely, but he worried, nonetheless. She had been hurt because her husband lived a lie. It had to be killing her to think that her son might end up, like his father, doing the same.

"I'll tell him to follow his heart, Harry," was Ginny's initial response, her face, or what Harry could see of it, not hiding her hurt, "and when he gets older, and if he decides he wants to settle for what people _think_ he should settle for, I'll tell him that living a lie can work — that if you love someone enough, you can be content, but that your heart will never be whole if you do that. I don't want our son to do what he thinks he should. I want him to do what he wants to do and what his heart wants him to do." Ginny then turned around and leaned against the counter as she looked at her husband, and swallowed, shaking her head. "I don't want him marrying someone and trying to be happy, all the while never being able to let go of the one he can't have. Our son should be able to be with whomever he loves, Harry."

There were many things Harry wished to say in response, yet he kept his mouth shut; in this situation, that was the best course of action. There was nothing he could say, and he knew that what Ginny said had been just as much about how sad she was for him as it was about being sad for her son. He instead picked up the parchment on top of the stack of mail, and his heart took a dive: it was from Portugal, and there was only one person Harry or Ginny knew who lived in Portugal.

Harry sighed. It had been okay for him to keep track of what was going on with Draco — that had been from afar and via someone else — but he wasn't at all wishing to hear from Draco. At least he now understood why Ginny had seemed in a standoffish mood from the moment he'd entered the kitchen, and why she had chosen now to bring up the fact that their son seemed to be homosexual.

He placed the letter on the bottom of the stack, then looked toward the window where he could see his three children running around and playing in the back yard, and he didn't miss Ginny's reflection as she looked toward the stack of letters. Harry wished he could banish the letter, but even if he could, he wouldn't. "I didn't get a chance to eat lunch, so I'll have to thank the kids for the curry, but I'll eat some roasted chicken as well." Yes, ignoring the letter, his wife's comments, his own feelings… it would be the best course of action… for now. He looked at his wife, but she turned away and continued preparing supper. Why in the hell had Draco written him? He knew better!

How much longer would Ginny put up with this? She knew where her husband's heart was, yet she also knew that he did love her, even if it wasn't in the way she wished for him to love her. She had threatened to take the kids numerous times when they were younger, but never had, and now she seemed intent on making the marriage work, although Harry had an idea that her resolve was fading with each passing day. The sparkle in her eyes had gone out long ago, and she hardly ever smiled anymore. Their lovemaking of the previous night had been a rarity, and Harry actually found that he missed being inside of his wife; he missed the intimacy, and knew that it was very probable that he had made love to Ginny Weasley Potter for the last time. It made him far sadder than he thought it should, but he knew that twelve years of marriage and three kids made up more than a third of his life, and the thought of his family not being together hurt.

Hermione had told Harry it might be better if Ginny and him did get divorced because then they could get on with their lives and be happy. She had also insisted that the kids were being hurt by the constant stress that he and Ginny were under. Harry understood that, but he couldn't see how getting a divorce could possibly be the best thing for anyone. It was an absolutely bloody awful idea he thought. No, he was going to work this out and make things right with Ginny.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that if Ron ever found out what was truly going on, he'd kill Harry, and that was really what Harry thought. Ron was his best friend now, but he was loyal to his family and if he even had a clue what was truly going on, well… Harry thanked Merlin that Hermione knew how to be discreet; she knew everything about Harry and Draco, yet she never felt the need to share what she knew with her husband. Harry did feel badly that his friend had to hide this from her husband, but not badly enough to tell her to tell Ron — that would be as good as signing his death warrant.

He opened the _Evening Prophet_ to see what tripe they had written about today, and to see what bad news his wife and Hermione had been reading about. He had already read _The Quibbler_, which was now his paper of choice (Luna's father had changed his format a few years earlier and now it was a much superior paper to the _Prophet_), but he did like to skim through the _Prophet_, however, because he wanted to cover all of his bases. Being an Auror meant that he needed to be kept abreast of what was going on, and there could never be too many sources to feed that need.

"I almost forgot to say that Teddy's coming for supper and he might stay the night. He Flooed earlier," said Ginny, her voice rather cold.

"Is Victoire coming as well? They don't go anywhere these days without one another it seems," said a grinning Harry.

"I asked him to come alone."

Uhoh. Warning lights went off; something was wrong. "Why?" asked Harry, not at all sure he wanted to know.

"I ran into Andromeda at the Leaky Cauldron this morning and she told me that he didn't come home last night," said Ginny as she set the knife to cutting the carrots and onions. "I think you should talk to him, Harry. He's always listened to you."

Harry glanced at Ginny and nodded, then he finished skimming the article that Ginny and Hermione had been talking about: the Conservation Society's efforts to save Old Godric's Hollow — some corporation was trying to acquire the mineral-rich land, and it appeared as though their arguments might have worked. Harry sighed again, not wishing to think about his home being torn down. He hadn't been back since he and Draco had gone there, but even if he never went back, he wanted to know that it would be there.

Folding the paper, he looked up at his wife, who was now aiming her wand toward the cabinet where the plates were. "Yeah, I will. I wish I knew what was wrong with him. Fleur says that he has been acting odd as of late. I thought Victoire would be good for him, but perhaps she is why he is acting as he is now." Harry didn't believe that, though. Victoire could never be a bad influence on anyone; she was about as straight and narrow as Hermione had been. The look from his wife told Harry that she felt the same. "Andromeda has not been well this year; perhaps it is that. You know how protective of his grandmother Teddy is."

"Yeah, could be, but whatever it is, he needs to cease his moodiness. I'll not have him being a bad influence on the kids." Ginny levitated the plates to the table.

"Yeah, well, I'll speak with him when he gets here." Harry then rifled through the remainder of the mail, finding only two real letters and a bunch of junk mail. He was going to have to get on the _No Junk Mail_ List.

"I know you want to read the letter from Malfoy; you might as well do it now," said a frowning Ginny. "It must be important. I know he has been ill."

Harry wanted to ask how she had known, but decided against doing so when she gave him a look that said she wasn't stupid, and opened the letter. He glanced at the first line, and grinned. "It's not from Draco; it's from his son, Scorpius." Harry thought about reading the letter out loud, but decided against it; Scorpius might not wish anyone else to know what he wrote.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_You don't know me, but I know you. In my history class we are writing essays on historical heroes and I want to write about you. My father told me not to bother you, but my teacher said that you would be happy to help me. If you are too busy and can't help me, I will understand, but I had to ask. Did you know my father? His name is Draco Malfoy. He was in your year at Hogwarts. I asked him about you, but he said he didn't want to talk about you. Mother says father has terrible nightmares about what happened, and that he almost died. Did he really? Mother told me you saved his life. I am really sorry if I am bringing back bad memories for you. That is not my intention. My friend Bethany is doing her essay on Oliver Wood, the Quidditch star, and I wanted to do my essay on someone just as famous, and you were the only living person I could think of. Please write me back and let me know if you can help me._

_Sincerely,  
Scorpius Malfoy_

Harry then did read it out loud, and watched his wife's face turn from a frown into a grin.

"You have officially arrived if you are on the same level as Oliver Wood; he is all the rage within the tweens and teens. You should help him," she added as she sat across from him and took a biscuit.

Harry gave his wife a slight grin, but didn't really feel much like being happy. He set down the parchment and sighed. He had tried so hard to forget, and he had wished for no further reminders of Draco, other than the updates on his health. Fate had never been kind to Harry, however, and this was proof of that. He'd never be able to let go of his past with Draco, and he wanted to, more than anything.

Almost nine years had passed since Harry had last seen Draco, and if nine more years passed the same, then that would be more than fine. His last meeting with Draco, at Hogwarts, had about undone him — Draco had been extremely ill, and Harry had taken care of him. It had been the most surreal of experiences — Astoria Malfoy had requested that Harry care for her husband, and Ginny had allowed him to do so, which Harry still had a difficult time understanding. Then again, there was quite a lot about those two days that had baffled Harry. What he was clear on, however, was that Draco had woken up more than once, crying, and repeating the name of his daughter who had died. Draco probably had no idea that he had done such a thing, and Harry had never commented about it, but Astoria had told him about Bella and her two brothers, and had told Harry how difficult Draco was taking the deaths. A troubled and worried Harry had watched Draco sleep, and he'd wanted so badly to help him, but there had been nothing he could do, except be there… for at least a short time.

When they'd arrived home, Ginny had sat her husband down, told him what she knew, or what she thought she knew, and asked him to be honest with her about everything. Harry hadn't wanted to, but he had, and once it was all out in the open, he'd felt as if a weight had been lifted. Ginny hadn't said much, but she had kissed Harry, and then the two had made love. From that day forward, they had been fine. Not great, but fine.

Now it seemed as though _fine_ would no longer be acceptable.

As much as Harry didn't wish to have anything to do with Draco's son, there was no way that he was going to refuse Scorpius's request. The boy had no idea of his father and Harry's history, so why should he be punished? Harry found a blank piece of parchment, which wasn't so easy with three children, and penned his reply:

_Dear Scorpius,_

_I am flattered that you would choose me to write your essay on. I had no idea that I was on the same level as Oliver Wood! That is a compliment indeed. My time is limited I am afraid, so I won't be able to meet with you, but I am going to direct you to documents that very few people know about. It will tell you everything about me and my time at Hogwarts. I'll ask that you not reveal where you found this information because it is very personal to me, and to others._

_There is a play park. Ask your father to take you there; he'll know precisely where it is. Beneath the middle swing, I have buried a box. Inside you will find an account of my time at Hogwarts, as well as other things, but only certain information will be visible to you. In order to access the box and its contents, you merely need to say your name. If you need help, ask your father. The box will come to him when he is near. I am sorry that I cannot explain further. Perhaps one day you will understand. The box and its items will only appear to you once, and only for twenty-four hours. After that time, the documents that you need will become invisible, so use that time wisely._

_Take care of yourself, Scorpius. You will never know how much your letter has meant to me. If you don't mind, please send me a copy of your essay. I am always curious to know what other people write about me. Thank you._

_Your friend, Harry Potter_

Harry sent the parchment with his owl, then went to rest, but as always, his rest never began. Three children saw to that.

"Daddy?" asked Lily as she crawled into her father's lap. Yes, she might have been nine, but that didn't mean she was too old to be her daddy's little girl.

"Yes, love?" replied Harry as he kissed her on the forehead. She looked so much like Ginny: beautiful long hair and such a sweet face. Harry wasn't looking forward to having to scare away potential suitors in a few years.

"I don't want brothers to go away to school."

Harry grinned. He loved being a father — no matter the constant chaos and upheaval that the smallest occurrences seemed to cause, having children was the best thing that Harry had ever done. "I see. Hm. I can see where that might be a problem, but wasn't it you who said to James, just last night as we sat around the dinner table, "I can't wait for you and Al to leave. Boys are gross and mean, and they have no manners?" Harry didn't miss the sly grin Lily gave him.

"I didn't mean it. Well, yeah, they are gross, but they are my brothers and I'll miss them when they go," was his daughter's matter-of-fact response. Her angelic face once again morphed into a frown and she looked toward the window where her brothers could be heard talking outside.

Harry nodded. "You'll be going off to Hogwarts in two years and then the three of you will be together once again. Merlin help the staff when that happens," Harry said, chuckling. His daughter's glare showed her disapproval.

"I will be perfectly well-behaved, Dad, and you know that." Lily placed a hand on her hip and gave her father another incredulous look.

Harry smiled and guessed that his wife had done the same when she was Lily's age. "Of course you will. And when I receive letters from Headmistress McGonagall telling me that you and your friends are getting into mischief, I'll remind you of this conversation." Harry was having a bit of fun with his daughter, and she seemed to be taking it well. She really was well-behaved, but she was not above getting into a spot of trouble now and then.

"Dad!" Lily said, then rolled her eyes. "James has Al convinced that he is going to be sorted into Slytherin house. That would be horrid, wouldn't it?" Lily looked completely abashed and mortified at the mere thought.

"What makes you think that? There is absolutely nothing wrong with being sorted into Slytherin, Lily." Of course, Harry need not have asked why his daughter would think such a thing. Lily had five uncles who were constantly reiterating how evil Slytherin was. Harry really didn't approve, yet he hadn't done much to cease the negative stereotypes. "You really shouldn't listen to your mother's brothers when it comes to such things."

"But James said you asked not to be sorted into Slytherin. Why did you do that if you didn't think Slytherin was bad?"

Lily looked so serious, and Harry knew she was. "Sweetie, that was a long time ago, before I knew that there was nothing bad about Slytherin. I was wrong to think the way I did."

"So if Al gets put in Slytherin, it's okay?"

It would be more than okay, and Harry had a very good idea that his younger son would be perfect for Slytherin. "Yes. Now why don't you go tell James and Al that supper is almost ready. Teddy will be here soon."

As Lily ran out the door and yelled for her brothers to come inside, Harry wondered where the years had gone. It hadn't been long ago that he had held James in the palms of his hands, and in another two years, his youngest would be off to Hogwarts. He wasn't prepared to let his children go, but he knew he had to. And it wasn't as if just because they were off to Hogwarts, they didn't need parents. Harry knew that he and Ginny had years of parenting left, and even when their children were old and grey, Merlin willing, Harry and Ginny would still be parenting — it was what a mother and father did, whether they were together or apart.

A tap on the window interrupted Harry's thoughts and when he retrieved the parchment from the brown owl and looked at the writing, his heart fell — this parchment _was_ from Draco. Harry carefully opened it:

_Harry,_

_Thank you for helping Scorpius. He has been going spare trying to decide whom to write about. I suggested Albus Dumbledore, and he liked that idea, but he said he'd rather someone who was still alive. You should see the smile on my son's face. He is happier than I have seen him in a long time. I will take him to the park. I told myself I would never return, but I will for my son. He asked why the password was Scorpius. I told him you must have just now keyed it to his name. I really do wish he could know that it was you who named him, but it is best he never finds out._

_Thank you again, Harry._

_Draco_

As Harry was closing the parchment, Teddy walked in, which was actually good, because the two had serious issues to discuss, and this was just the thing to get Harry's mind off Draco. "We need to talk, Teddy." Harry tried to prepare himself. He so hated having to be cross with his godson, but there were times when there was no avoiding it. He pointed to the chair across from him and waited for a sullen-looking Teddy to have a seat before he continued. "Andromeda said you didn't come home last night. What is that about? I thought we had discussed this, and you told me that everything was fine." Harry sent the letter from Draco to his desk in the sitting room, then turned to face Teddy again. "Talk."

"Gram won't let me do anything, Harry. I am nineteen and I should be able to come and go as I please. I love Victoire and shouldn't be made to feel guilty when I want to spend time with her. We are going to be married, for Merlin's sake!"

Harry nodded, but just as he was about to respond to what his godson had said, James, Al, and Lily walked in. "Go wash your hands and faces and wait in the drawing room." Harry waited for one of the kids to say something such as…_Why?_ but no, they looked at Teddy, then at one another. They were probably just happy it wasn't one of them about to get a talking to. Harry and Ginny had had plenty of those moments with their children.

Once the kids were in the other room, Harry turned his attention back to Teddy. "As long as you are living in your grandmother's house, you have to abide by her rules. I don't care if you are nineteen or fifty — what she says is the law and there is no room for compromise. You have already tested her quite enough over the past year. Do not push her or you might find yourself needing another place to live. Now you know that there is a standing invitation for you to live here, but don't think that you are going to have free rein here just because I am your godfather and you think I am cool. My kids look up to you and I want you to set a good example for them."

"But—"

"There are no buts, Teddy. Perhaps it is time that we find you your own place. You have enough money to do so." That was one thing Harry couldn't quite understand — most young men would walk through Devil's Snare if it meant them moving into their own flat. For some reason, however, Teddy seemed to not to want to live on his own. Harry didn't know how, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this.

"Yeah, maybe so. At least then Victoire could come over and we could see each other as often as we want to. You're lucky. When you were nineteen, you could do what you wanted to do."

Teddy had rarely upset Harry, or anyone else, for that matter; his demeanor just didn't lend itself to upsetting people, but what Teddy said upset Harry a great deal and he had to try really hard to remain calm. Teddy wasn't thinking; he didn't mean to say such a thing. Yet he had. "Yes, Teddy, when I was nineteen, I could do whatever I wanted to because my parents died when I was one, and my relatives, who had to raise me, didn't want anything more to do with me after I was seventeen. I had no one to tell me what to do or what not to do, so yes, if that is being lucky, then I was lucky. But let me tell you one thing, Theodore Remus Lupin, I wish to Merlin that I had had a mother and a father to give me advice — to tell me what I should and should not do. You, of all people, should know what it is like to grow up without a mother and father. Don't you miss them? Don't you wish that you could hug them and tell them that you love them? Don't you wish that you had even one memory of them kissing you goodnight?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, I—"

"Let me finish," Harry said as he stood and walked to the fireplace, then turned back toward Teddy. "You, James, Lily, and Al mean everything to me. I would die for the four of you if I needed to. I am so very proud of each of you, and I know that each of you will do great things. I love you very much, Teddy, and I don't want you to ever forget that. But, if I hear that you continue to give your grandmother grief, I will cut you off. You are an adult and it is time you begin acting like one. Understood?" Harry was so upset that he was shaking. He hated to talk to Teddy this way, but there was no other choice.

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, Harry. Maybe it is time I move out. I am just scared that Victoire is going to meet someone else and fall in love with them and call off the wedding. I love her so much and can't even imagine my life without her."

Harry was somewhat confused as to what the two separate things — moving out and not wanting to lose Victoire — had to do with one another, but supper was ready and he thought they could drop the conversation for now. "We'll finish this discussion after we eat."

Later that night, when the house was quiet and dark, Harry sat at the kitchen table, a single candle the only source of light, and thought about Teddy's parting words:

_Harry, I admire you more than I admire anyone. You don't understand how much you have done for me. You tell me stories about my parents, you welcome me into your home, you love me as if I were your own, and you always seem to know the right thing to say when I get out of line. I hope I can be like you when I have children. James, Al, and Lily are so very lucky. I only wish you were truly happy. I know that you love Draco Malfoy. I remember him and how he used to pick me up and swing me around, and I remember him helping me slide. I am sorry that you and he can't be together._

Teddy had left Harry standing, open-mouthed, at the door, and two hours later, Harry still had no idea what to think about what Teddy had said.

How had he known?


	16. Chapter 16

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 16/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 4,400  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Sixteen**:

"You had to know this was going to happen, Draco," said the elder Malfoy as he sat down across from his son at the kitchen table. "You shouldn't be shocked. I am rather surprised that Astoria and you have lasted as long as you have. Your mother would not have put up with what your wife has," he added, almost as if an afterthought as he sipped on his snifter of scotch, his silver-grey eyes never leaving Draco's.

And what was Draco to say to that? As if he didn't already feel as if he had let down everyone, couldn't his father at least act sympathetic? Apparently, not. So much for support. Oh, he knew that his parents would support him, and would eventually cease this rather cold and distant demeanor toward their son, but for the moment, it hurt, and Draco wished he had parents who didn't care so much about what other people thought.

Being thirty-seven years old and having an eleven-year-old child meant that Draco had long ago left childhood, but he currently felt as if he were ten again and had disobeyed his parents. He had spent the majority of his life trying so hard not to give them reason to think less of him, and it devastated him now to think that his parents were disappointed. His mother had hugged him and welcomed him home earlier in the day, but Draco had sensed straight away that she was disappointed in him. And his father, well, he hadn't held his tongue, and it seemed as though he wasn't quite finished yet.

Draco wanted so badly to go out to the gardens where he could be alone, but to leave would be the ultimate show of disrespect and, as much as it hurt him to sit through this dressing down, he wouldn't do that to his father. Thus, he would take whatever his father had to say. After all, it was all deserved — Draco had done this to himself and now he was paying the price.

"Do you have any idea how devastated Scorpius will be when he finds out, Draco? Astoria has every right to try to keep your son away from you. Your mother and I love our grandson and do not want to be prevented from seeing him."

There wasn't much Draco could say; nothing he said would matter, and it frustrated him. The thing was, he had known this would be the way his father reacted, and Astoria had known as well. She had tried dissuading Draco from taking their son to Malfoy Manor; she had wanted Draco to take Scorpius to Pansy's for a few days. Pansy had been begging Draco and Astoria to come visit her, and this would have been the perfect opportunity. But no, Draco had wanted to face his parents like an adult, even knowing how they would react. He knew now that he'd made a mistake, but there was nothing to do at this point but take what his parents had to say.

His body began to shake and Draco knew he should leave. If he didn't, he risked becoming overly upset, and with his health as precarious as it had been as of late, that could be bad. Nevertheless, he wasn't leaving. His father had no idea how ill his son was, and Draco refused to alert his parents to the seriousness of his condition, which would happen if he left. A Malfoy never left when another was dressing him down — it was a sign of fortitude or some rot such as that. So Draco briefly closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. What a nightmare. "She won't do that, Father. She promised."

"Promised? What is a promise, Draco? You are my son; you know what promises mean! Not a bloody fucking thing! Did she take an oath? If not, then I would give her _promise_ no merit."

Not one word of support. Not one! Draco couldn't help but allow the hurt to show. He admired his father so very much, and needed his father to support him. It didn't seem as though he was going to get that support. "You don't know her, Father. She wouldn't keep me, Mum, and you away from my son."

"Well, for your sake, let's hope not. If you'll excuse me, I have a meeting in ten minutes that I cannot miss, but you and I aren't finished yet; we'll talk after supper."

A distraught Draco watched his father leave, then closed his eyes again, but this time it was to stave off dizziness. Everything was going horribly wrong; Draco's life was crumbling before his very eyes, and there wasn't much at all he could do about it.

Standing, Draco slowly ascended the back staircase to the first floor. He needed to be alone and he needed to try to forget what his father had told him.

Leaning against the wall in the hall, Draco tried again to calm his breathing. He hadn't asked for this. It hadn't been his intention to fall in love with Harry Potter all those years ago. He had wanted the family he ended up with, and he still did. But Astoria no longer wanted to be married to him, and it was killing him. Malfoys were loyal and never gave up on situations just because they were difficult. This situation, however, was out of his hands.

His hand shaking, he turned the doorknob and entered the all-too-familiar room that he had spent twenty-two of his years in. He hadn't been in this room in years, but It was as if no time had passed since he and Harry had sat on his bed and talked for an hour, the afternoon of his wedding. Nothing of great consequence had been shared that day, but those sixty minutes alone with Harry had given Draco the strength to move forward with his life, and he had, for almost eleven years, with a smile on his face.

There was no longer a smile on his face.

After opening his trunk and taking the potion he had been given to help with the dizziness, a forlorn Draco opened the window and looked out over the massive grounds: there were no longer peacocks strutting around the inner-gardens, but the gardens once again looked perfectly manicured, the same as they had when Draco had been a little boy. It was curious: his parents had never been much into gardening, but there were no house-elves as there had been years earlier. Draco had a fleeting thought that perhaps his parents had taken up the art of gardening, but that thought came and went in less than a second; gardening was, in his parents' words, menial labor, and there was no way either would be caught dead doing anything menial. Draco attempted to smile at the mere thought. His parents were typical old-money aristocrats who thought that everyone else was beneath them. It was not at all how Draco thought or lived his life, but they were his parents, and he loved them, faults and all. But, if they weren't tending the gardens, who was?

"Draco?" asked an unfamiliar voice.

Draco turned around, prepared to ask who the person was, but instead opened his mouth, not quite believing whom he was looking at: it was Teddy. He was an adult now, but there was no doubt who he was. "Teddy?" Remus and Nymphadora Lupin's son nodded, and Draco again tried to smile, but didn't speak; he wasn't sure what to say.

"I am spending the remainder of the hols here at Malfoy Manor. Your father is helping me get into University," said Teddy, fidgeting as his eyes darted around the room.

An unlikely story; a nineteen-year-old would not willingly stay at Malfoy Manor, no matter what the pay-off. There was more to it, and Draco would find out, but for now, he was just happy to see Harry's godson. So much time had gone by since they had last seen one another. Draco had last seen Teddy in hospital, and the then small boy had been sleeping. "Then I can assume that it is you who has been working in the gardens?" Draco had heard from Andromeda a few years earlier that her grandson had taken up gardening, so it would make sense.

"Yeah; they were looking rather ghastly. Victoire has been helping," replied a now grinning Teddy. "She's brill. She'll be here tomorrow."

That sentiment produced the first grin that Draco had given all day. It wasn't difficult to miss the dreamy look on the young wizard's face: he was in love. Draco remembered looking that way once. "You and she?" asked Draco.

"Yeah, we're getting married next June."

"Congratulations." Draco wanted to ask what Harry thought about this news, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. It was none of his business.

"Grandmother told me that your son was going to be with you. I was coming to see if he wanted me to take him flying; she says he is already quite the little seeker."

Draco nodded. "He is with my mother in London today, but they'll be back this evening. He would be delighted for you to take him flying; he thinks you are quite the athlete, which you are. Congratulations on winning the Quidditch Cup again."

"Thank you. I was hoping to play at uni, but my grades weren't good enough."

Ah, so that was why he was here. Andromeda had thought some time with her dear sister and brother-in-law might help him. Well, Draco had to hand it to his aunt: she couldn't have sent her grandson anywhere else that would have helped more. Living in Malfoy Manor with Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy would scare anyone into doing their absolute best. They had been wonderful parents, but they had not put up with anything less than the best from their child, and Draco knew that their nephew was receiving the same expectations. Draco had a momentary bout of commiseration for his cousin. "Perhaps by next year, you'll be able to go."

"Yeah, I hope so. Er… will you be staying long?" asked a somewhat reticent Teddy.

Teddy might look like a Black, Draco mused, but he was every bit as transparent as Harry had been. If Draco didn't know who Teddy's parents had been, he could imagine that Teddy had been born of his and Harry's love; for all intents and purposes, he was Draco and Harry's child, and Draco knew that he would do anything for either Scorpius or Teddy… which included not letting them think he had been born yesterday. Draco sighed and shook his head, not wishing to get into this, but knowing he really had no choice. "If you are staying here, then I assume you know what is going on. My son, however, does not, and until I think the time is appropriate, I would very much appreciate it if nothing were mentioned. Understood?" Draco had no right to speak to Teddy with such abrasiveness, but he needed him to understand how important this was. Scorpius was going to be hurt enough as it was.

"I understand. Then it is true."

A nod was Draco's only response.

"Harry's coming to see me this weekend," was Teddy's response, then he walked to the window and turned to face Draco. "Just as I told him, I'll tell you: I am not daft. I was young, yes, but I had eyes, and there was no way not to see what was going on. You look surprised. Harry had the same look on his face when I told him I remembered. I'm not saying it was right what happened because you and my godfather hurt a lot of people, but I want Harry to be happy, and if you make him happy, then I want the two of you together. He isn't happy, and hasn't been for a very long time. You made him happy, Draco."

To say Teddy's words had taken Draco by surprise… he had no idea how or if he should respond. "He hurt me." Why was Draco telling Teddy this?

"Yes, I am aware of that, but that doesn't change the fact that he loves you and needs you. Believe me, he has been hurt by this as well. Well, I should go. Victoire and I are going out for a few hours and I have to have her back early." Teddy then left.

How very like a little Harry clone to begin something and then leave with it unfinished. Not at all sure what to do, Draco sat on his bed and stared at the door that Teddy had just closed. He knew where things were headed and, as much as he wanted to hope, he couldn't. He had loved Harry too much, and that had gotten him nowhere. Draco had done more for Harry than he had for anyone else; he had even… no, he refused to blame Harry for his own stupid act that was going to eventually take his life.

Harry had once told Draco that the Dark Mark didn't bother him; he had said it was a reminder of how far they had both come. Why Draco hadn't listened and left well enough alone, he'd never know. Now he was weakening every day, and there wasn't a bloody thing he could do to stop it. He couldn't even stand to look at his reflection anymore.

As much as Draco longed to see Harry, he didn't want Harry to see him: he had lost so much weight, and he was losing his hair, not so much because of old age, but because of a treatment he had begun to try and stave off his weakening immune system. He was no longer the same person whom Harry had loved, and Draco didn't think he could face Harry now. Although, deep in his heart, he knew that Harry would love him even if he were in a coma. Draco knew this because if the roles were reversed, he'd love Harry no matter his condition.

Falling back on his back, Draco covered his eyes and allowed himself to cry. He didn't want a divorce. He didn't want to have to tell his son that he was moving back to England. He didn't want to face Harry. He didn't want to die.

He was going to do all of these things, and sooner, rather than later.

Dinner was a quiet affair that evening. No one spoke more than two words apiece, and it drove Draco spare. Finally, not able to stand the tense atmosphere, he stood and excused himself and returned to his room, but not ten seconds passed until there was a knock at his door and then it opened.

Draco looked up and watched as his son entered, a sullen look on his face. This couldn't be good. "Why the sad look, Scorpius?"

"Why didn't you and Mum tell me you were getting a divorce?" asked the young Malfoy, a look of hurt and anger on his face.

"I—" So, this was why his parents hadn't spoken to him at dinner. Draco was furious. His mother had gone against his wishes and had told Scorpius. How dare she! Draco and Astoria had planned on telling their son in mid-September. What was he to do now?

"Your mother and I were going to wait until you got settled into Hogwarts before we told you."

"Why are you getting a divorce?" Scorpius looked pleadingly at his father, as if he thought his father might be able to make him understand.

Draco had no idea what to say. The truth was not an option at this time, but he didn't wish to lie to his son. "Your mother and I have decided we need to be apart. That does not change how we feel toward you. She and I just can't live together anymore."

"But why? I thought you were so happy. I never hear the two of you fighting. What happened?"

Draco shook his head. It would destroy his son if he knew the truth, and it would also serve to destroy someone's hero-status whom Scorpius looked up to. Draco dreaded the day his son realized the truth. "It is complicated, Scorpius. I wish I could tell you, but I can't, not now."

"It's because of _him_, isn't it?"

Draco could feel the blood leaving his face. "Him?"

"Harry Potter."

Draco didn't say anything; he didn't have to; he knew it was written all over his face, and he knew his son was not stupid.

"I overheard you and Mother talking last night when you thought I was in bed. Do you love him? Is that why you are leaving us?"

Draco shook his head. "I am not ever going to leave _you_, Scorpius. No matter what happens between your mother and me, you are always going to be my number one priority."

"But you love him and not Mother, is that how it is?"

"I will always love your mother, Scorpius." Draco felt dizzy. He bowed his head and closed his eyes, and asked for some guidance while his eyes were closed, hoping that there was someone out there who thought he deserved some.

"But you love him more. And don't even lie to me, Father. One of my mates from school showed me a picture of you and Harry that was taken before I was born. The two of you were kissing. You told me you didn't want to talk about him. Is this why? Because you love him?"

Not waiting for an answer, Scorpius left the room, and it broke Draco's heart. He had never wanted to hurt his son, yet he had, and there would be more hurt to come. At least it hadn't been his mother who had told Scorpius; that would have destroyed his relationship with her. Draco should have known that his mother would have never done such a thing.

He Flooed Astoria, and wasn't encouraged when his wife's tear-streaked face met his face. "What's wrong?"

"Scorpius knows. All of his posters of Harry are ripped to shreds."

Draco had expected as much. Well, wasn't this a fine mess that he had gotten his family into. "I am sorry, Astoria, for all of this. I know it does little to help now, but I never wanted this to happen. I wanted you and me to work through our problems. I still do. See what this is doing to our son? We can put a stop to this." Draco knew it was pointless to even ask for another chance. He had been given more than his fair share of other chances.

"No, Draco. I've lived with a wizard who has loved someone else for over eleven years, and for all of those years, I've wished and wished for you to love me. You did, but never the way I wanted you to. Even knowing this, I went along with it for our son, and because, somewhere, in the back of my mind, I thought that you would forget about Harry and learn to love me. But now I know that is a fantasy; the two of you are meant for one another, and I have finally accepted that. I don't blame Harry, Draco. He is an amazing person and I truly hope that the two of you can find each other again and be happy. That is my wish for you. I can't compete with him, and believe me, I've tried. I love you so very much, Draco, and I am heartbroken that our marriage will soon be over, but I know in my heart that we are doing the right thing. I deserve happiness, as do you."

"And what about our son? He deserves his parents to be together, Astoria." Draco didn't want to even think about what his wife was giving him permission to do. It was so unfair that his wife was the one who would be hurt the most. She had been through so much, and now this…

"All children deserve that, love, but that is not the reality. You and me both know that there are more divorces now than marriages. It is a fact of life, Draco, and there is nothing we can do to change that."

Draco nodded. "I am going to stay at Malfoy Manor until I can find a flat." It wasn't what Draco wished to do, but he had no other choice.

"You could live in the home your parents bought for us," Astoria said, her voice now calm and rather soft, as if she were trying to make her husband feel better. "I know you gave it to me a few years ago, but I don't need or want it. It's yours. I want to know that you are in a decent place; Scorpius is going to be spending just as much time with you as me, and I don't see our son being happy in a flat."

Draco agreed. His son was accustomed to a large home. "I'll think about it. I just need to know that you are not going to take Scorpius away from me, Astoria. I think that might be more than I could handle." And that was the truth. He closed his eyes and roughly wiped at a tear.

"Draco, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me," said Astoria, her voice soft and loving, as it always was when Draco got himself worked up.

Draco did as asked, and tried to calm himself.

"Why would I even consider keeping your son from you? He loves you, and it would devastate him to not be around you. You and I are having problems; he and you are not. If you truly think me capable of keeping the two of you apart, then we really have nothing left. Now I need to go. Give Scorpius a kiss for me, and Draco, I don't want us to be the parents who can't stand being around one another when dealing with their children. I love my son, and I want him to always love you. I will never say a bad word against you, and I request you do the same regarding me, please."

Draco nodded as he sniffed. This was so much harder than he had ever thought it would be. He didn't want to hurt anyone. Astoria disappeared, but Draco continued to stare at the fireplace, wondering where it had all gone so wrong, but knowing that it had all gone wrong when he had married Astoria and allowed Harry to marry Ginny. Yet, how could it have been wrong when Scorpius had been a result of that? Draco loved his little boy with every bit of his heart, and he would never regret the night that he had been conceived. He also didn't regret that Astoria was Scorpius's mother. None of his life had been a mistake and he didn't regret any of it.

What Draco didn't want was for his son to feel that he was a product of a loveless marriage, and that he was possibly a mistake. No, the only mistake Draco had made was thinking that he could have it all; he should have known better.

As Draco walked to his room, well after midnight, he peeked into his son's room (the same room Draco had used as a nursery; the walls were still the same, but now Draco rather liked the décor), and was distressed to hear Scorpius crying. He wanted so badly to go in there and comfort his son, but he didn't think he could stand it if Scorpius pushed him away. He would deserve it if his son did such a thing, however. Tears began again, and Draco allowed them to fall, wishing that his mother were with him. She always knew what to say to calm Draco, and he knew that this situation would be no different. No matter how upset she was with him, Draco knew that she loved him and would help him to the best of her ability.

After a restless few minutes of indecision, Draco entered his son's room — this might be the last time he would ever be able to comfort his son — it was almost too much for Draco to contemplate. He sat on the edge of his son's bed and, almost immediately, was holding his son in his arms and rocking a sobbing Scorpius back and forth. Draco continued to rock him, not saying anything. He just wanted to be there.

"Please don't leave me, Father. I don't think I could stand it if you moved away from Mum and me."

Draco wiped the tears from his son's face, then lifted the small chin and looked into Scorpius's sad eyes. "I'm so very sorry that we're putting you through this, Scorpius. I never wanted to hurt you. Your mum and I can't live together anymore, so I am going to live here with Grandmother and Grandfather Malfoy until I can find a place to live. This is your bedroom, and you can stay here anytime you wish to."

"Anytime?" asked a sniffling Scorpius.

"Anytime that school is not in session." Scorpius looked uncertain, but then he smiled, his chin still quivering, as if tears were about to begin anew. Draco felt a tear slip down his face and he watched his son watch it fall.

"I love you, Daddy," said a small, shaky voice.

More tears fell and Draco allowed them, not caring, wanting and needing his son to know that this wasn't easy. It hurt so badly that Draco didn't think he could go on, but then he heard his son calling him _daddy_ again, and telling him not to cry, and Draco knew that it would be okay. Somehow, they would all get through this. He would get through this because he was Scorpius's daddy — there would never be another title Draco coveted more. Draco was _father_ most of the time because it sounded more dignified and befitting a well-to-do family, according to one Lucius Malfoy, but there was something about the word _daddy_ that melted Draco's heart when his son addressed him as such. "I love you, too, Scorpius."


	17. Chapter 17

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 17/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 3,480  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst, **there is part of this chapter that could be one of those triggers for certain people - it deals with attempted non-con/sexual assault. It is very brief, is not descriptive, and will not be mentioned again.**  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!  
**A/N**: This chapter didn't turn out to be the happy chapter I had intended it to be; I moved around a few things and edited it a bit, so now you'll have to wait until next chapter for some happiness. Please heed the extra warning I have mentioned for this chapter.

**Reason Number Seventeen**:

"Draco," Harry mouthed as he slowly shook his head and took a step back from the opened door, where Draco stood, looking forlorn: they stared at one another. No. No. Managing sound, Harry repeated the no and was tempted to turn around and leave. Ginny couldn't have sent him to see Draco… but the proof that she had done just that stood not even a foot away. Harry opened his mouth to say something more than no, but there were no more words. He closed his eyes. No. Why? He didn't understand. As he re-opened his eyes, he watched Draco retrieve something from his robe pocket, and noticed how severely his hands were shaking; Harry's were as well.

"Here, read this," replied Draco as he handed Harry a parchment.

As their fingers brushed during the exchange, Harry flinched. Bugger. Nearly ten years had passed since the two had seen one another, and that still had not been enough time. Damn, Ginny! Harry opened the parchment, but continued to look at Draco.

No.

But this no wasn't the same as the other 'no's: this no was because Harry could see that Draco was wasting away to nothingness: his skin looked pale and clammy, and his hair, well there wasn't much of it left, and what there was of it was almost completely grey. Harry shook his head and mouthed no. Draco had to be okay.

Forcing himself to cease his somber thoughts regarding Draco's future, or the probable lack of one, Harry returned his gaze to the parchment.

_Dear Harry,_

_I know you won't understand why I did this — sent you to Draco — but you don't need to. All you need to know is that it is important for the both of us to find the happiness we have never found in each other. You already know where you can find yours, and I think I have found mine. I tried to tell you this last week, but you refused to listen to what I had to say. Harry, Dean and I have been seeing one another for the past month. We've not done anything, but I want to, Harry. I've tried to make the best out of a bad situation with you, and have stayed in this marriage far longer than most people would have. You are too honorable, and would never have left me and the kids; you would have spent the rest of your life miserable just so we could remain a family. I love you for that, Harry, but we have to face what is in front of us. We are still young and could have a lot of life left. I think we both deserve to live those years as happily as we can, don't you?_

_Harry, I want a divorce… a quick one. I want us to utilize the ordinance that allows for one party to file to get a divorce in seven days. I filed last week; if you agree, it can take effect immediately. You don't know this, Harry, but Draco and Astoria are now divorced. Harry, take this opportunity to live. For thirty-seven years you have been everyone else's hero — it is time that you stopped pleasing others and pleased yourself. You deserve that, Harry._

_I will always love you, I will never keep your children from you, and if they want to live with you during hols, than I'll understand and let them._

_This isn't about you or me, this is about the future of our children, Harry. I want them to see what it is to be truly happy, even if they have to see their parents being truly happy with someone else. I hope this makes sense. You don't know how hard it has been writing this letter. Please don't be angry with me for doing so._

_I think you and I would agree that we should not make this public until after the kids are at Hogwarts. Scorpius already knows about his parents and he is not doing well at all. He is back with his mum now, and from what I hear, she is not having an easy time with him._

_This divorce is for the best, and I truly do believe that, but we both know how the kids will react, and we also know that Albus Severus… well, this could be just the thing to trigger his depression again. We really do need to try and get him some help, but then again, we all are probably going to need some help. Regardless, we need to make sure he is settled into his lessons before we drop this latest news on him._

_Sorry for the way this is coming out, but with you, subtlety is not an option. You are the smartest wizard I know, but you do not take hints and you do not recognize signs. I figured the best way to tell you was to show you. You can hate me forever for doing this, but I think you'll eventually want to thank me._

_Draco is ill, and I think he might not have a lot of time left. Don't waste what precious time the two of you have together, Harry. You both deserve happiness._

_Before I go, let me say this once more: I love you, Harry, and I don't regret one moment of our marriage._

_Love, Ginny_

Harry stared at the parchment, blinking his eyes furiously, not wishing to cry in front of Draco. Was this a dream? A nightmare? Talk about being completely blind-sided. Yes, he had known Ginny was unhappy; she had been so for years. He had even known that Dean had reentered the picture, but this — Ginny asking for a divorce, and sending him off to find Draco — well, Harry wasn't sure what to think… other than where was Teddy?

This was all too much. Harry couldn't face any of it right now — it would have to wait until after he saw his godson. Teddy was the reason he was here, after all, at least that had been what he'd thought. Obviously, there had been an ulterior motive, and Harry wondered if Teddy had helped.

Of course, he had. Harry hadn't been born yesterday.

"Did you read this?" he asked Draco as he forced himself to look into the blue-ish grey eyes (They no longer had that silver-tint to them that had given Draco such a distinctive look). He hoped that no one else had read the letter; the information was private, and not even Draco had the right to read such a letter.

"No. Astoria gave it to me when she picked up Scorpius this morning, and told me to give it to you when you got here."

What? Astoria had known about this? Who else knew? Not that it mattered: Harry's life was tumbling out of control, and he didn't want to face that fact, not yet anyway. "Ginny said that you and Astoria are divorced," he said as he folded the parchment and placed it in his cloak pocket. He tried to keep his voice calm and his expression blank, and could only hope he'd succeeded.

"Yeah," was Draco's answer, and he didn't look and sound any happier about his marital status than Harry did regarding his. "Let's go in the kitchen and get something to eat and we can talk there."

As Harry followed Draco, he looked around at the massive surroundings and felt very much the same as he had when he'd first done this. It was as if no time had passed and he and a twenty-year-old Draco Malfoy were seated in the kitchen sharing a plate of biscuits. However, on closer inspection, Harry noticed subtle yet profound changes: the paint had chipped around the edges of the doorway, and the rug in the hallway had faded. The table was also different, and new curtains hung above the sink.

The most profound change, however, was now sitting across from him.

No matter the vast changes that Draco had gone through, however, the change had done nothing to diminish who Draco was, and Harry knew — he knew without a doubt that he wanted Draco more than he had ever wanted anyone. He didn't want to be here, but he was, and he was tired of denying what and whom he wanted. If his wife wanted him to be happy, then perhaps he should be. But…

Was Draco worth the risk of losing his children's love, though? No. That would be where Harry drew the line, but if his children could learn to accept this — Draco and their father together — then Harry knew that he and Draco had a future together. If his children had a problem with Draco, however, Harry would stay away from him; he had responsibilities and took them seriously.

Once they were seated and each had a butterbeer and biscuits, Harry cleared his throat. He was as nervous as he had been the first time he and Draco had made love. What was Draco going to say? From the way he looked, it wasn't going to be anything Harry wanted to hear.

"I'm sorry that your wife and Teddy tricked you to get you here, Harry. It wasn't exactly my idea, but I was not in a position to stop them; you know how Teddy is when he gets something in his mind."

So Teddy had been in on this. Harry'd have to have a serious talk with his godson. A small smile was all he could manage. As upset as he was with this situation, he knew his godson had meant well.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes as he shook his head, and Harry could see how much Draco was suffering: emotionally, physically, and mentally. What had happened? Against his better judgment, Harry reached across the table with his right hand and covered Draco's, which had just set down a biscuit. He didn't say anything, but lightly squeezed the hand, hoping to help make whatever Draco had to say a bit easier. He began to withdraw it, but Draco shook his head and covered Harry's hand with his free one. His eyes seemed to plead with Harry. Harry nodded and gave the hand another small squeeze.

"Thanks." Draco smiled and squeezed Harry's hand before pulling his away and retrieving a biscuit. He took a bite, took his time swallowing it, then began. "It's a long story, Harry, and I'm not ready to go into all the details yet, but a few weeks ago I came close to sleeping with another man. He looked so much like you, and he acted as you do. He said he wanted to bugger me. I was weak and gave in." Draco shook his head and took a deep breath. "I was so stupid. We went to his flat and were about to begin when he began screaming at me and calling me a poofter. He soon had me in a choke-hold. After what seemed like forever, I somehow got out of it and got the hell out of there. Scared the shite out of me, I tell you." Draco paused and wiped away some perspiration that had gathered on his brow. "When I told Astoria, she lost it and said she had had enough, and filed for divorce the following day. I am lucky she didn't file for sole-custody of Scorpius. She is upset, of course, but she has always known where my heart was, so I think this has been more difficult on me than her. But Scorpius: he is so distraught, Harry. I don't know what to do. He cries himself to sleep every night, and he does nothing all day but stare at his feet while seated on the sofa. When Astoria came to get him, this morning, he hugged me, and, Harry, I didn't know a person could cry so much. He begged me to come with him and his mother. It broke my heart." A lone tear slipped down his cheek. "Astoria says she wants Scorpius to live with me, because she knows he won't want to stay with her if I am not there. We're working out the arrangements now. If all goes according to plan, we'll both take him to the Hogwarts Express on September first, and that will be our last public appearance as a family. After all of these years, it seems as though my wish is about to come true, but now I don't know that I want it to; the price is too high, I think. But I'm tired of fighting this, Harry. I am ill, tired, and emotionally drained. If you'll have me, I would very much like to see if we can work again." Draco leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure.

This had to be a dream. Real life wouldn't be this cruel, would it? How could something so good come out of something so bad? Yes. Oh yes, Harry wanted Draco; he wanted to see if they could work. Yet there were three children of his own who he had to think about, and one that wasn't his that he also had to think about. "Will your son have a problem with me?" Harry needed to know.

Draco nodded. "Yeah, for now, yeah. He tore down all of the posters of you that covered his bedroom walls, but last night, as I was trying to calm him enough so he could sleep, he asked me if you were as nice as people said you were. It's going to take time, Harry, but he is such a loving child, and he is going to learn to love you; I have no doubt about that."

That was wishful thinking. Harry would settle for mere acceptance. "If I decide to give Ginny the divorce she wants, where does that leave us? We can't go back, Draco. Things are different now." Harry didn't want to think about how different things were.

"I don't know, Harry. Last week the Healers told me that I might have twenty years," Draco said, a smile on his face. "I thought they were going to tell me I was about to die any day; I felt like it. I feel like it. I don't know how much time I have, Harry, but however much time I have left, I want to spend it with you."

No. Why was this happening? Harry could reach out and have what he had wanted for so long, but with that act, would he be giving up that which was most important to him? Would he lose his children? He needed to know that they wouldn't hate him, and that they would accept Draco. "I need to think about this, Draco. It's a lot to take in." Harry watched Draco closely, and could see his body sink a bit further in the chair. "Where is Teddy?"

"He's out in the garden."

"Your parents? Are they here?"

"No," Draco replied, a mirthless laugh following. "If they were here, I'd not look as if I were a breath away from blowing away."

"A Glamour?" Harry shrieked. "Bugger, Draco, you know you shouldn't use up your strength to keep up a Glamour. What in the bloody hell are you trying to do? Kill yourself?" From the looks of it, that is precisely where he was headed, and Harry didn't think he could face a world without Draco in it. Why was Draco being so obtuse? He knew how important it was to conserve his magic.

"I'm trying to live, Harry. You don't have any idea what it is like to be me, so sod it. My parents have no idea how ill I am and I intend to keep it that way. I don't want to be a burden." Draco threw down the biscuit he had just picked up. "I can't even fly anymore, Harry. I can't do half of what I once was able to do. But what I can still do? Not you or anyone else is going to tell me not to do it. This is my life and I am going to live it the way I want to. If you can't deal with that, then leave."

"So you'll live until you kill yourself. That's rich, Draco."

"When it is you who are dying, then you can do as you please."

"You are so sodding dramatic, Draco. You are not dying; you have… what is it? Twenty years? Hell, Draco, I could die tomorrow in a broomstick accident, but you don't see me saying I am going to die." That was weak, and Harry knew it; his words were unfair, but he had to get Draco to fight and not give up.

"Teddy will want to talk to you. Go see him. I am going to have a kip," said an exhausted looking Draco as he stood and pushed in his chair. As he was turning to leave, he stumbled. When Harry tried to help, Draco shook his hands off and walked out of the room.

Harry remained standing in the doorway for a few minutes more, then began walking toward the gardens. He did need to talk to Teddy, and sooner would be better than later.

"Harry?" said Teddy from the doorway. "I thought I heard your voice. Come see what Victoire and I've done to the gardens."

Reluctantly, Harry followed his godson, but said nothing until they were outdoors. Teddy stopped as soon as they were outside and turned around to face him. Harry could see worry in the young features, and he thought it was good that Teddy was worried; he had done a foolish thing.

"Please don't be upset with Ginny and me, Harry. I know it is unfair what we did, but we did it because we love you and want you to be happy."

No. Why was it that everyone else had a say in how Harry lived his life, but he didn't? Harry opened his mouth and intended to give his godson a right good verbal lashing, bit instead turned and began walking toward the nearest garden: the one where the roses, lilies, irises, and petunias were once again blooming. This had been his and Draco's chosen destination when outdoors at Malfoy Manor. They had made love amidst the flowers on countless occasions, and had fertilized the seedlings with copious amounts of ejaculate. Harry grinned at the thought and wondered if the creamy substance had helped or hindered the flowers' growth.

When he reached a bench, which hadn't been there previously, he knelt and read the words engraved on the plaque attached to the back:

_Bella Eileen Malfoy  
March 24, 2008 — March 24, 2008_

_Our darling granddaughter, Bella, was only with us for the briefest of time, yet she blessed us all in the time that she was here, and she will forever be our little angel. When you sit on this bench, please take the time to smell the roses, lilies, irises, and petunias, and admire their beauty. And remember our little Bella: think of her playing amongst the other angel children, running through the flowers, and laughing._

_We love you, Bella._

_Grandfather and Grandmother Malfoy, and your brother, Scorpius_

Harry blinked a few times, but didn't wipe away the tear that had made its way to his nose. He stood, then sat down on the bench and looked around: it was beautiful.

"Lucius did this for Narcissa; they sit out here each night. Draco spends a lot of time here as well," Teddy said as he sat beside Harry on the bench.

Harry nodded. "How bad is Draco?" Teddy sighed and shook his head. It must be bad.

"He's not that bad, Harry. I mean, it is bad, but no more so than it has been for the past five years. What is worse is his emotional state. He has given up it seems."

"Yeah, and he needs a reason to live," Harry said, in little more than a whisper as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes again. He wasn't sure, but he thought he was beginning to understand. This — him being here — everyone was in on this. They might not want this to happen, but they were all in on it.

Harry wanted to leave. He wanted to forget what he had seen and heard. But he wouldn't, and they'd all known that. "I'm going to need you to help with the kids, Teddy. This is going to devastate them." Harry then stood and returned inside, walked up the stairs and into Draco's room. As expected, Draco was asleep, his breathing, the all-too-familiar sound that Harry had missed for so long. Toe-ing off his shoes, he climbed into the bed and curled up next to Draco and closed his eyes.

He was home.


	18. Chapter 18

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 18/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 3,430  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!  
**A/N**:I have deviated from my alternate chapter POVs because I needed this chapter to be from Harry's POV. I could have included this in chapter seventeen, but that didn't seem right; this chapter deserved to be separate.

**Reason Number Eighteen**:

Harry stood at the window, watched as the owl flew away and disappeared into the thick fog that had blanketed Wiltshire for the past few hours, and contemplated what the future held for him now that he was one step closer to no longer being married to Ginny Weasley Potter. Much to his dismay, it wasn't at all a good feeling, knowing what he had done.

Shouldn't he be happy? Isn't this what he'd wanted? Perhaps not on the surface, but deep down, he had never wanted to be married to Ginny and had always wanted Draco to be the one. Well, now he had what he'd wished for for years: his marriage was over, or would be soon — he'd signed the divorce papers, and the Ministry would finalize the divorce in less than twenty-four hours. Nearly thirteen years of marriage, over and done with in less than a day. No matter how much Harry had wished for it, he hadn't wanted it to end like this — it didn't seem fair, but he knew more than most that life was, if anything, not fair much of the time.

Nevertheless, he had done this willingly, knowing it was for the best, so why was he so depressed about what he'd done? Well, he wasn't completely stupid; he understood that knowing and doing were two different things, and the knowledge of what was ending with each stroke of his quill hadn't made the act any easier. He'd shed tears as he penned his name. Thirteen years of his life had been spent with Ginny, and they had had three wonderful children. They had been a happy family… hadn't they?

Had he made a mistake? Would it be worth all the pain he, his wife, Draco, his wife, and each of their four children would suffer?

Probably not.

Harry thought he might have acted in haste. Perhaps it wasn't too late. Ginny and he had agreed to remain as they had been until after James and Al were at Hogwarts, so there was time. He wiped the tear away. Why was he crying? He had wanted this… hadn't he?

Arms wrapped around him from behind, and lips kissed his neck. "Mother and Father will be returning this evening. If you don't wish for this to be made public," Draco said, as he lifted Harry's arms and removed his shirt, "it would probably be best if you weren't here when they arrived. My father isn't too happy with me at the moment, and I wouldn't put it past him to make your life hell if he knew about us getting back together. He'll know soon enough as it is." Draco then began kissing Harry's back, going lower with each kiss.

Harry, not at all sure what he should do, wanting, yet not quite ready to accept what Draco was offering and what that meant for him and his children, tensed and pulled away, berating himself and thinking what the bloody hell was he doing. "Sorry, I just can't do this right now." He turned to face Draco, and he knew there was no way that the anguish on his face wasn't obvious. "I—"

"Shh. I understand," was Draco's reply as he wiped away the tear running down Harry's nose. "I'm sorry. I didn't think before I acted. Astoria has told me quite a few times that I am insensitive; I need to work on that, I guess."

If there was a more sensitive person than Draco, Harry had never met them. How could anyone think him insensitive? "Don't apologize. I just didn't think it would be this difficult to sign the papers. Thirteen years we were married, Draco. She knew I loved you; I didn't know that then, but she did, yet she married me anyway. She put up with a lot from me, but she loved me, and I did love her, Draco. I really did. Now it's over and I don't even want to think about how the kids are going to react when they find out. They're going to be so disappointed in me." Harry allowed Draco to wipe away more of his tears, and he tried to smile. "I've never cared what people think about me, but I do care about what my children think; they are the most important people in my life, Draco, even more important than you. I need you to understand that. My children will always come first."

As Draco wiped away more tears, he leaned in and kissed Harry chastely, barely brushing their lips. "And I wouldn't love you as much as I do if I meant more to you than your children. Harry, you are the most loving and caring person I have ever known. I have no doubt that James, Lily, and Albus Severus will be upset, and there will be rough times ahead for you and for me, where our children are concerned, but there is no way that your children will ever ever be disappointed in you."

What wouldn't Harry give for that to be true. "I hope you're right," Harry said as he roughly wiped his eyes with both hands, angry that he had allowed his emotions to get the better of him… again. He didn't want to be so distraught; he wanted to be happy. He was finally in a place where he had wanted to be for years, yet, now that he was there, he found that he wasn't nearly as happy as he thought he'd be. They did say the grass really wasn't as green on the other side as people think, and Harry now agreed. "I think I'll be fine once the kids know what's going on. I don't want to lie to them, Draco. I want them to know that you are a part of my life. What we have can never be a secret. If we're going to do this, we are going to do it right, er… when the time is right, of course." Harry had no intention of making this public until he knew that Albus Severus was in a good place in his new surroundings at Hogwarts; he was the one who would be hurt the most in all of this, and his parents had agreed that their son came first before everyone else in this situation.

"Of course we are, Harry. I want everyone to know that I somehow caught the fancy of Harry Potter. Won't your little tweenies be so disappointed!" Draco said, as he smiled. "So are you going to take me flying, or not? I threw out a hint yesterday that I wanted to go flying, but you didn't get it. I seem to remember you promised me a flight about thirteen years ago. I'm here to collect," said a smirking Draco as he watched Harry look skeptically out the window toward the increasingly bad weather. "We don't have to stay up long. I just want to feel the wind on my face."

Harry shook his head and allowed a small laugh. Oh how he loved Draco — he had always known when a change of subject or something to divert his best friend/lover's attention was called for. Yes, the weather was completely bloody awful for flying, but Harry knew he was a good flyer and he also knew that he and Draco would be fine. Besides, they both needed this. "Are you sure you're up for a flight? It's cold and windy out and is going to be even more so the higher we get. You might want to put on a jumper."

Fifteen minutes later, as the broom rose higher and higher, Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's chest as he silently directed the broom. His preference was to steer the broom manually, but he hadn't been sure Draco would be strong enough to hold onto him from behind, so that is why Draco was in front of him. And, it wasn't as if they planned on going fast — this was going to be a leisurely ride.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked as he directed the broom a bit higher and just did miss a bird that had strayed away from its flock, which was now flying towards the lone bird, presumably to retrieve it and be on its way to wherever they had been going. Harry wondered if the young bird knew how lucky it was.

"I'm fine," Draco said as he looked around him. The flock of gulls passed them and the stray followed. "Look, the fog seems to be parting for us. There's the Manor; it looks so different from up here. I remember when I made the Quidditch team in second year: Father would challenge me to a race daily during Christmas hols, and we would start over there where that beech tree is, and we'd finish over there where the gate to the house is. Father won every time but one. I always stomped off, pouting, when I lost, but he said it built character and that no one should ever allow anyone to win just to be nice. I still say that is what he did the day I finally won, but he says I won fair."

Harry listened to what Draco had to say, and saw the happiness flicker across the emaciated face as Draco turned his head to the side and looked down over the vast countryside. He wanted to see more of that contented look, and decided to do all in his power to make that happen. "I can't see your father ever allowing anyone to beat him, Draco. If you won, I'd say you won on skill."

"Yeah, could be. I was a good Seeker, wasn't I? You were better, of course, but I was quite good. Now I can't even fly a foot off the ground. Funny, that." Draco wasn't laughing.

Neither was Harry. No, he didn't think there was anything remotely funny about that comment. "You're a mite bit more than a foot off the ground now, Draco. Do you want to steer? I've got you, and won't let you fall." To prove what he said, he tightened his hold around Draco, then secured Draco to him with a safety harness. "You're always going to be safe with me." Draco nodded, and Harry mouthed a few words, then the broom was on manual. Draco took hold of the broom handle and Harry could see how serious Draco looked; he was concentrating, almost too much. "Relax, love, let it guide you. You barely have to steer." Harry moved to help Draco, but decided against it and instead continued to hold the man he loved and now knew he was going to be with until he died — he felt about as happy as he had ever felt. There would be much strife to come, from several different directions, but they would get through it. Harry felt another tear begin to fall, but he smiled as it fell — there was nothing at all wrong with being happy and crying about it. Hadn't he told his sons that it was okay for boys to cry? It would never be something Harry felt comfortable doing around others, but he needed to heed his own advice.

"This is almost as good as sex, Harry, seriously. I haven't felt this alive since… well, since a long time ago." Draco's face relaxed and they began flying, a bit lower, but also a bit faster. Harry grinned. Yes, it was an endorphin rush like no other…well…

"Thank you, Harry. I didn't think I'd ever get to experience what it was like to fly again." Draco's grin grew as he maneuvered the broom to do a few tricks.

Harry held his breath as they did a figure eight, then as they flipped. They were about to do something else, but Harry cleared his throat and Draco slowed down. As exhilarating as it was, for the both of them, Harry knew Draco needed to slow down. "Okay, no more tricks; it's getting too dark, and I think y—we've had enough for tonight. I'll take you up anytime you feel like it. Perhaps next time we can begin a bit earlier and fly longer."

"Yeah, I'd like that," said a happy-sounding Draco.

They landed and Harry undid the harness, but when he got off, he could see that tears were falling down Draco's face, and he'd made no move to get off the broom. Why was he crying? He had just been so happy seconds earlier. "It's okay, Draco." Harry didn't understand.

"No, Harry, it's not okay. The only way I can fly is with you. I'm too weak. I can't—"

A kiss prevented any further words, and as Harry deepened the kiss, he helped Draco climb off the broom. When Draco stood, Harry lifted him into his arms, carried him into the house, and laid him on the sofa. "What time are your parents going to be here?"

"Nine."

"That doesn't give us much time. Are you strong enough for me to make love to you?" A nod was Draco's only response. Harry once again lifted the much-too-light Draco into his arms and ascended the stairs. When he entered Draco's room, and set Draco on the bed, he removed his shoes, then his clothes. When he began removing Draco's clothes, his fingers were shaking so badly that he didn't know if he'd be able to undo the buttons. Perhaps he should use magic, but he liked the intimacy that doing it himself produced.

Once they were both naked and lying side by side, they held each other for at least five minutes, and said nothing as they gazed into each other's eyes. Harry ran his hands through Draco's hair, and frowned when he noticed that he'd removed a clump of the beautiful blondish-grey hair.

"It's okay, Harry. It's all going to come out eventually. I hope you like the bald type." Draco grinned and reached up and pulled out another handful of his hair. "As Scorpius keeps reminding me, it's only hair. And, if this treatment helps me live longer, then it will have been worth it, yeah?"

There were no words that would be a proper response, so Harry decided those pinkish-purple lips needed attention. He leaned in and kissed Draco, and quickly deepened it until he and Draco were wrapped around each other. Oh how he loved kissing Draco. He hadn't forgotten how good it had felt, and neither had he forgotten how Draco affected him. They hadn't even frotted, yet Harry was so hard at the moment that he was in pain. He had waited so long, and now that he was so close, he wanted to feel his orgasm rip through him, but what he wanted more, was to feel Draco having an orgasm. The reality, however, was that Draco probably wouldn't be able to climax, and that hurt Harry. Draco had always had such intense orgasms, and had been so beautiful when his body trembled with his release.

"You're thinking too much, Harry. I'm ill; I'm not dead. Quit looking at me as if I am about to die. And get over yourself already and frot against me. I mightn't be able to match you in the stamina department, but I can still frot, I'm here to tell you."

"Do show me then," Harry said, cheekily, as he frotted against Draco and closed his eyes at the intenseness of the first brush of their cocks in over thirteen years. It was perfection times a thousand, and Harry knew that this was right. There could be nothing wrong about what they were doing. He had been faithful to Ginny. Now that they were divorced, he had every right to do this.

He opened his eyes and gasped when Draco pressed against him and didn't let up the pressure. Those intense blue-ish grey eyes were mere inches away, and they were glassy. Harry opened his mouth, but couldn't speak. Was Draco going to come? The glassy-eyes-look is how he'd always looked when he was about to orgasm.

"I want you to come for me, Harry, right now, looking into my eyes. I want you to scream when you come, and I want you to show me how beautiful you are when you orgasm." Draco then rubbed with a bit more force, and pressed his lips to Harry's, then closed his eyes.

As intense as his impending orgasm was, and it was close… very close, Harry panicked. Something wasn't right. "Draco. Open your eyes. I want to see your eyes… now." Slowly, he could see the blue appear, but barely. "Draco, open your eyes.

"Had an orgasm," whispered Draco, in barely understandable words. "Nothing came out, no strength, but I had an orgasm, Harry," said a barely conscious Draco. "So good. Love you, Harry." Then his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

Harry smiled as he watched Draco's chest rise and fall. He must have already been hard; perhaps the broom ride had helped. "Sleep well, love." Harry kissed him on the forehead, then carefully extricated himself from Draco's arms and legs, and got out of the bed. He hated to leave after such an intense moment, but he didn't want either him or Draco to have to face Lucius Malfoy regarding this… not yet. There would be a time and place for that, and now wasn't it. "I love you, Draco."

Still completely hard, Harry knew he'd not get far in his current condition, so he grabbed his cock, looked at Draco, and pulled on it a few times, thinking about Draco watching him and coaxing him to come for him. He wished that it were Draco's fingers or mouth that were wrapped around his cock, and one day soon it would be, but for now, Harry's hand would have to suffice. It took a bit longer than usual, but eventually he collapsed against the wall and allowed the orgasm to run its course. It was good, quite a bit better than his usual wank sessions, but it was nowhere near what it would be when he was buried deep inside of Draco. He wanted that so badly, but knew he'd have to be patient. All good things came to those who waited, he reminded himself. Besides, he was so happy for Draco that he didn't much care about his own orgasm. Draco had orgasmed, which had been unexpected, and as much as it had worried Harry, he was thrilled for Draco, because he knew that Draco had felt the orgasm, and there was nothing like the feeling of having an orgasm pulled from you by someone you loved.

He leaned over the sleeping Draco and kissed those purple lips, wishing he could make them turn pink. "Thank you for allowing me back into your life, Draco. I'll never hurt you again, I promise." One more kiss, then Harry covered Draco and turned out the light, but didn't leave immediately.

He stood in the doorway, wondering why he had been given this second chance with Draco; he hadn't deserved it, but he was going to prove to Draco that he was worthy of this second opportunity at happiness and love. He wasn't worthy of much else, but he knew that he was worthy of this. Draco and he had been meant for one another, and Harry truly believed that, just as he believed that he and Ginny had been meant for each other, and just as he believed that he and Ginny had been meant to have three children.

There was a time and place for everything that happened in life, and no one event trumped another, although, Harry had to admit that his love for Draco was far purer than any love that he had ever had for Ginny. That didn't take anything away from his time with her — it was merely a fact.

Harry closed the door, and couldn't wait until he wouldn't have to close any more doors. He looked forward to the time when he and Draco went to bed in each other's arms and woke up, their limbs tangled from a night of lovemaking.

It would happen soon… mid-September, or October — whenever they could finally tell their children — was not that far away.

There was a lot to face before then, and Harry didn't look forward to any of it, but he knew that with Draco by his side, even if only figuratively, he would get through whatever he had to.


	19. Chapter 19

**Title**: Nineteen Reasons… 19/19  
**Author**: MK Malfoy  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter  
**Rating**: M+  
**Words**: 4,830  
**Summary**: At King's Cross, nineteen years after Voldemort was defeated, Draco Malfoy nodded curtly at Harry Potter. Contrary to popular belief, the nod was not the result of a sense of obligatory politeness — there were nineteen reasons for that nod. Epilogue-compliant. Each chapter will be a separate story detailing a meeting between Harry and Draco.  
**Warnings**: sexual situations, possible adult language, angst. There is also an A/N at the end of the fic that mentions another possible warning that some of you might want to be warned for. If you think you might want to know what this warning is, please go read the a/n at the end of the fic.  
**Disclaimer**: I own none of what I write about; it is all Jo's and her friends!

**Reason Number Nineteen**:

_Draco_

_Lily has a flying lesson in the morning, so we won't be at King's Cross until a few minutes before eleven. Ginny and Lily are going to the Burrow after the boys leave. Kingsley and I were supposed to meet at one, but Kingsley's mum is in hospital so we had to reschedule. If you're free, perhaps we can go do something. I have to be back at the Burrow at seven to pick up Lily, but we can go grab a bite to eat or just talk. It doesn't matter. I just miss you and want to see you. If we see each other before the train leaves, just give me a nod or a shake of the head._

_Harry_

Draco read the letter as he surreptitiously watched Astoria and Scorpius talk in the hall, the both of them looking tense and moving their hands around. Draco wished he knew what they were discussing. Sighing, he returned his gaze to the letter Harry had sent. How was it that Harry thought they were going to be able to meet publicly without James, Al, or Lily finding out? Someone would end up saying something or alerting the _Prophet_. That was the last thing Draco wanted: he knew how horrific it had been for Scorpius, and it was sure to be the same for Harry's kids. But there was one certainty, and no one or nothing could change that fact: at some point, everyone would know about them, and whether it was sooner, or later, it was going to happen. Thus, if Harry wanted to see him, Draco would see him.

Looking at the clock on the wall, Draco again sighed, then Summoned the vial that sat on the counter in the kitchen; it was time to take the potion that was supposed to make him better. As of yet, he hadn't felt any stronger, but the Healers said that within a month or two, he should begin to notice a difference. Just how big a difference, Draco wished he knew: Would he be able to walk a few steps more without stopping to rest, or would he be able to go flying? There was a big difference in the two, and Draco wanted to know that what he was doing was worth it. Yes, he told anyone and everyone that it was definitely worth it; he needed to be positive. The reality was, however, that he wasn't at all sure anymore. Nevertheless, he would continue to take the potion for his children and for Harry, and yes, for himself. Although he could give a rats arse about himself, he knew others loved him and would be devastated if anything happened to him.

Thankfully, his dispirited thoughts were pushed to the back of his mind when Astoria left and went into the kitchen and Scorpius turned to look at him. "Mum said you wanted to talk to me. Have you and she decided to stay married?" asked a hopeful eleven-year-old who wanted nothing more or less than a stable home where he felt safe.

Draco shook his head, wondering what Astoria had told Scorpius. Surely, she hadn't given him false hope; their son had begun to improve, albeit in small increments, and Draco was not at all looking forward to him regressing. As he tucked the letter from Harry into his pocket, he tried to think how best to respond. "No, Scorpius, your mother and I are divorced. She and I are not ever going to get back together. She and I will always be friends, however; never doubt that."

"But I don't want you to be friends, Daddy, I want you to love each other. Why can't you love each other anymore?" Those silver-grey eyes pleaded with his father.

"We just can't, love."

"Do you love Mr. Potter? He's a wizard, Daddy. Wizards aren't supposed to love other wizards. That is what Great Uncle Albatross told me last month when I went with Grandmother and Grandfather Malfoy to Greece. They didn't think I should be friends with Andrew, and said he liked boys." Now those eyes blinked a few times, and he turned his head away.

Of all the things anyone could have said to Scorpius… how could anyone have said that to him? Did they not think before they spoke? Obviously, not. But at least now Draco thought he understood a bit more what might be bothering his son so much regarding Harry and him, and he couldn't believe it had never occurred to him before. "Let's go sit in the garden that your mother and Eugenie have been working in. I think we need to have a serious talk. Go ahead, and I'll be out in a few minutes. I need to speak to your mother first."

Draco watched the downtrodden Scorpius mope his way outdoors, and everything seemed to be coming together. It would make perfect sense. Draco again sighed as he walked into the kitchen.

"I think Scorpius might prefer blokes, Astoria." There, it was out in the open.

"Took you long enough to see it, yeah?"

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, not understanding. What was she on about?

"His room, Draco. Have you seen his room recently?"

"Yeah… so?"

"And have you seen the posters on his walls? The posters of half-naked male Quidditch players? About two weeks ago, I told him that they were inappropriate and that he needed to remove them, and he got all bent out of shape, as if I were berating him for living. Yeah, that would be when I came to the realization you have come to today. So what clued you in on it?"

Draco knew his wife… er former wife, and he knew she seemed upset, which was understandable, but not acceptable. "You're not disappointed in him for this are you, Astoria? Please tell me you're not, because he needs us to support him."

"Of course I'm not disappointed in our son, Draco. He can't help who he is any more than you can. I loved you, and I love our son. Whomever he chooses to love is up to him; I just hope he doesn't hide it like you and Harry did." It was obvious that she hadn't said it in anger, but she had been hurt, and she didn't want anyone else to go through that. It was an understandable comment.

Not wishing to get into _that_ discussion again, Draco turned toward the door. "I'll be out with Scorpius. Father is supposed to Floo me with some information. Will you bring it to me when he calls?"

"Yes, Draco, I will," said Astoria, her voice now noticeably softer and sadder.

As Draco walked outdoors and approached his son, he knew that he needed to have a talk with his parents, and soon. He didn't like that his father's uncle was filling Scorpius's head with such tripe.

"Does it bother you that I might love someone who is a wizard?" Draco asked as he sat in the chair across from his son.

Scorpius looked up at his father and shook his head. "No, but as I said, some people say it's wrong, Father." The distraught look on Scorpius's face spoke volumes.

"No, Scorpius, there is absolutely nothing wrong with a wizard loving someone who is the same gender… er who is a wizard also."

"So it's okay if I don't like witches?" was Scorpius's matter-of-fact response.

Well, that had been unexpected. Draco was momentarily too stunned to speak, but quickly found his voice when he noticed his son's face beginning to crumple. "It's more than okay, love. Whomever you love, your mother and I are going to love as well." That statement brought out a small smile from his son, and Draco thought they might be making some progress, but he knew they still had a long way to go.

"Does Mr. Potter have a son?"

"He has two sons and a daughter. One of his sons, Albus Severus, will be in your year."

"Is he sad about his daddy loving you like I am about my daddy loving his daddy?"

Oh. Wow. Draco wasn't at all prepared for that question. "I don't know, love, but I think he probably will be sad just like you are. But, Scorpius, Albus Severus doesn't know anything about this yet, and I must ask you not to say anything, okay? We are not hiding it from him — he, his brother, and sister are going to be told — his father and mother just want to wait a few weeks to tell them. Can you understand that?" Now Draco was frantic. What if his son did say something to Albus Severus? Harry would be furious.

"He is probably going to be sad like me. Perhaps he and I can be friends," Scorpius said, a smile on his face.

To say that Draco was shocked by such a comment… well he was. Scorpius had been so very distraught, and had been crying and acting out. The mere thought that this little boy, whose life had been turned upside down, would want to be friends with the son of the man whom his father was in love with… it was a bit more than Draco had expected, and it made him proud. "I am sure Albus Severus would like that very much. The two of you have quite a bit in common and I have no doubt that the two of you will become good friends." Draco left it at that. The rest was for his son to figure out.

Another smile from Scorpius. "Do you still love Mum?"

Ah, so back to this. Draco again sighed, wishing for a bit of guidance. "Yes, I will always love your mother, Scorpius, but it's not the same now as it was. It's difficult to explain."

"Teddy came to see me this morning. He told me that you would never deliberately hurt me. But you did, Dad. I know you can't help it, but you did."

Draco nodded. "Yes, I know, and I regret that very much, Scorpius."

"Teddy said that if I ever needed to talk, I could talk to him. I didn't know that he was Harry Potter's godson. He seemed a bit hesitant to talk to me, probably because he didn't want to hurt my feelings, but I could tell that he is happy that you and Harry are together again. I think Teddy thinks of the two of you as sort of parents. It's a bit odd, really, but I guess when you don't have any parents, you long for someone to take their place."

Such maturity for an eleven-year-old. Draco nodded. "Yes, I think you're right. Not all children are as fortunate as you are."

"Can you please tell me what happened to Teddy's mum and dad? I know they died and that bad people killed them, but no one wants to ever talk to me about what happened. When I wrote my paper, you didn't want to help me. I know it's hard, Father, but don't you think it might help to talk about it?"

If Draco had a Galleon for every time someone had said that very thing to him, he'd be... well… richer than he was. It's not that he didn't want to talk about it, but he couldn't. The few times he had tried, he'd never gotten far before the tears began to flow. He slowly nodded and sighed as he watched his son's eyes follow his. "Your father was almost one of those bad people, Scorpius." Well, there was no _almost_ about it — Draco _had_ been one of those bad people, but he couldn't tell his son that.

"But you weren't, Daddy. I know you could never be bad."

Draco's right hand grasped his left arm, and he had to try with everything he had not to begin to cry. If Scorpius only knew.

"It's time for supper, Scorpius," Astoria said as she approached her son and former husband. She placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and gave a slight squeeze.

Completely surprised by the action, but very thankful for the interruption, Draco gave his former wife a small smile as his son began walking toward the house. "Thanks. I didn't know how I was going to respond."

"Why you had to say anything, is beyond me. He doesn't need to know that you were a Death Eather, Draco. He has enough problems as it is."

Later that night, as Draco was about to go to bed, Scorpius walked into the guest bedroom and stood by the door, his eyes looking wide and more than a little bloodshot, as if he had been crying. "I still want you and Mum to get back together and be happy, but I am going to try and accept that you love someone else, even if it is a wizard. I guess if my dad has to love a bloke, he could do worse than Harry Potter." Then he turned and left without another word.

Draco was speechless, but he didn't have much time to contemplate what his son had said. He heard a knock on the door and looked up to see Astoria standing there, a tear rolling down her face.

"Don't you ever let him down, Draco. He loves you so very much. It worries me to death to think about what will happen if anything happens to you."

About the only thing Draco could do was nod and whisper thank you. If it hadn't been for her, Draco knew that Scorpius would have never said what he had.

"One more thing, Draco: I heard what he said to you about Harry's son, Al. If one good thing comes from this situation, I hope it is that our son and Al can become friends. It is going to be difficult enough for them as it is with their parents divorced, but because of who Harry is, well, that is only going to complicate matters further. If his son and our son can help each other… er and no, they are eleven, Draco, so I don't mean it that way," Astoria said, rolling her eyes, "but you do know what I mean. I will welcome Harry's son into my home at any time, just as I know Ginny will do the same with our son."

Another nod. Wasn't it late? They needed to get to bed. "Yes, I'm sure she will. If you don't mind, could we finish this in the morning? I'm knackered."

"Yeah, sure. After tomorrow, things will never be the same… will they?" Astoria said and asked, looking a bit sad.

Draco was a bit sad as well. "No, they won't, and I'm sorry for that, Astoria." And Draco was truly sorry; he hated what he had done to his family.

"I know, and I also know that you are a great father to Scorpius and will continue being a wonderful father to him. That is all I could ask for. Just be sure that my son always knows his mother loves him. I know he'll want to live with you, and that is fine, but please make him come home to stay with me some, Draco. I don't want to lose the both of you."

Words were not coming at all easy tonight, and Draco again could only nod as he watched his wife leave. He loved her, and always would.

But he loved Harry more. Was he a bad person for that?

Epilogue

_Twenty years have passed since my father and Harry bonded, and a stronger love I have never seen. Their lives have not been at all easy, but in watching their struggles, I have learned what it is to live a full life. It seems as if there have always been obstacles blocking Harry and my father from having the life they deserved, but as I now know, you can never expect for your life to be an easy and happy one. You can hope, but the rest is not up to you; it is up to the fates, gods, or whoever is out there dictating how we live our lives. My father and Harry have never complained about their lot in life, and I can still remember my father telling me to buck up and get on with it when I told him I didn't want to be a homosexual. I did, and can now say that as upset as I was with his comment, it is the single most wonderful piece of advice I've ever been given. My dad was proud of me and wanted me to accept who I was. I tried for so long not to, but with my father's love, and with Harry's love and endless talks, which he is so good at, I learned to accept who I was, and who I loved. Now I am ashamed of how I once felt, because I love Albus Severus Potter and want everyone to know that. He is my best friend, and when I get upset or tired while caring for my father, it is Albus who takes over and cares for him._

_It was Albus who convinced me that writing this book would be a good idea; he said it would help me, and like his father, Albus knows what he is talking about. He is the best husband a person could ask for, and he is the absolute best father ever. When I watch him with our two children, I never fail to silently thank my father and Harry. Had they not shown us what true love was, Albus and I would have never gotten together._

_Harry James Potter did not father me; he has no legal claim to me, and he and I look nothing alike. I have two parents who love me very much. Nevertheless, Harry is my parent every bit as much as my real father and mother. He has been there for me for over half of my life, and he has seen me through some of the roughest times I've ever been through. I love him. This book is first and foremost for my father, but it is for Harry as well. Without him, my father would have died years ago._

_Harry, you'll never know how much you mean to me._

_Until a year ago, my father and Harry's love seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. I really have no idea how that was possible, but it is the truth, and what a wonderful example it has been for their children and grandchildren._

_That example that they have set for us is why I have written this book — I want future generations of Potters and Malfoys to know about what happened between 1998 and 2017. So much happened before and after those dates, but it is the time in between that never ceases to amaze Albus and me. My father and Harry went through a lot, and my respect for them is immense._

_One of Harry's journal entries, which I wrote about, said that only the stars would ever know what truly went on between him and my father. That is how it should be, but I hope that the select events I have written about will give everyone a glimpse into the purest type of love there is. Oh, and don't think I am doing this without permission. Harry knew I had been thinking about writing this book, and when my father went into hospital last year, Harry asked me to write it._

_Penning each word of this book has truly been a labor of love, and I can't wait to go read it to my father, although, I think Harry might beat me to it, and I think that might be better; my father always loved it when Harry read to him. He mightn't be able to hear the words, but I pray that he can. Regardless, Harry tells me that my father would be so very proud of me. The thing is, I am proud of my dad, too. I am proud that he and Harry ended up happy. My mother and Aunt Ginny were surely hurt when all of this happened, but now you couldn't find two closer friends. Ginny has been keeping our children, Bella and Severus, while Albus and I sit by my father's bed at the hospital, and if you can believe it, Ginny has been my most ardent editor. I did not wish for her to read what I wrote, but she wanted to — she said she needed to know how Harry thought and how his mind worked. I was pensive about it and asked Harry. He reluctantly said it was okay to let her read it. A better decision, I'll never make. She has tidied up a few areas that were not clear to me, and she has corrected facts that I had written incorrectly. I probably haven't corrected everything yet, but everything will be corrected before I let anyone other than my immediate family read this._

_Thank you, everyone for reading this. You all are my family, so I want you to know that you are a lucky lot to be a Malfoy or Potter. We have had plenty of ups and downs, but, we never let the down times keep us from ascending again. My only regret is that my father is no longer in any condition to read this and to give me his approval. I have Harry's — he says 'my kid' has done good — and that is golden, but I would love my father's approval. He loved me so much and always encouraged me in whatever I did. I'd love to hear him say just once more how proud he is of me._

_Endings are always sad, and I am facing the second most difficult ending I'll ever face: my father is about to leave us and I am not ready for him to go. He has been my rock for so long. What will I do when he is gone? What will Harry do when his Draco is gone? It is all I can do to be in the same room with my father and Harry now — Harry's tears and silent sobs as he holds the hands of my father is the saddest, yet sweetest thing I have ever witnessed. When my father dies, Harry is going to be devastated. We will all be devestated._

_As I end this book, I want to share with you the very first words I wrote as a serious writer. No matter what else I write in my life or publish professionally, there will never be a more cherished item as this parchment I now hold in my hands. Not long after this was written, my world was turned upside down, but that had not happened when I wrote this, and I treasure that time, as much as I treasure the time after. Everything happens for a reason. Harry and my father have taught Albus, James, Lily, and me that valuable lesson, and that is what Albus and I try to teach our children: There is a time and place for everything, and that includes the reason I wrote what I did for my first serious writing assignment. Please excuse the simplicity of the words: remember I was a mere boy when I wrote this. I'd like to think my writing has improved somewhat._

_Thank you, again, everyone, for reading._

_Scorpius Malfoy  
23 June 2037_

_27 April 2016_

_Harry James Potter by Scorpius Malfoy_

_Harry James Potter's life is not a secret. We all know about what he did and how he did it. We all know his parents died. What most people don't know is what are his thoughts about what he did._

_Over the past few weeks I have found out a lot about Harry Potter, and I intended on including most of it in this essay. When I started writing this, I was going to write about his life and thoughts about everything he went through. I have decided instead, however, to write about my father, who went to school with Harry._

_No one really remembers much about anyone else in Harry Potter's year, so I want people to know that I have a wonderful father who almost died; he would have had it not been for Harry. My dad lost a really good friend the night of the Battle of Hogwarts in 1998. There is a picture of the two of them in our hallway, and my dad always has this sad look on his face when he looks at it._

_He doesn't talk about the battle much at all, and he doesn't even know I am writing this, so I don't have a lot of information to tell you. I know you are all probably thinking how boring this is, an essay about someone whom none of you know, or care about, but all my life I have wanted to let people know how wonderful my father is. He donates money to loads of places, helps people who can't afford food and clothes, and he tells me every day how fortunate he is to have me in his life._

_So to me, he is the hero that needed to be written about. Not that Harry Potter is not a hero. He is. It's just that there are lots of people who know that. There doesn't seem to be anyone who knows that someone thinks my dad is a hero._

_I'm sorry, Mr. Lewis, that this paper probably isn't that good because it doesn't tell anything much about someone's life, but even if I get a P, it will be worth it because now everyone in the room will know about who I consider my hero. _

Harry could barely finish the last sentence because the tears were making it difficult to read the words, but he managed, and as he set down the parchment on the bed, he looked at his beautiful, sleeping bond-mate, and squeezed the small, warm, pale hand. He wanted to believe that Draco had heard what he had read; he needed to know that he had heard it. "Draco, a few days ago you stopped squeezing my hand. I know you're ready to go, but can you do me a favor? Could you please squeeze my hand once more? I want to know that you heard what I read. It would mean so much to your son to know that his father heard what he wrote. He loves you so very much, Draco, as do we all."

Harry waited, but there was nothing, but then, the slightest bit of pressure to Harry's hand — it wasn't much, but it was what Harry had wanted; it is what he had needed.

"Your son wrote this for you, Draco. He wrote this entire book for you."

Harry placed the book on the bedside table, then lay down beside Draco and caressed his cheek. "I remember when Scorpius sent me that owl asking me if he could write his essay about me. I always wondered why he never sent me a copy. Now I know — he had written about you, but he never told either of us, did he? But I always knew that you were the one who was his hero. You and Astoria did a wonderful job with him, Draco, and I am honored that I was and am able to be such a large part of his life now. I couldn't have asked for a better son-in-law. He and Albus Severus are happy, and I like to think that you and I set the example that they are following."

Another pressure, but this one not quite as noticeable. Harry wiped away a tear. He wasn't ready for this. "The kids will be here soon, love. Teddy is bringing Bella and Severus later this evening, but Scorpius, Albus Severus, James, and Lily should be here in a few minutes, as should Astoria. Your mother and father are on their way back from Portugal; they should be here in an hour or so. Your mother wanted me to give you a kiss for her." Harry pressed his lips to Draco's forehead. "She and your father love you so much, Draco." He leaned over once more, but this time kissed Draco on the lips. "I love you, Draco."

Looking over at the bedside table, he studied the cover of the book that Scorpius had written; the one he had been reading to Draco for the past few days. As sad as it had been reliving those times when he and Draco had been apart, it had also been a happy experience remembering: Draco had once been young, healthy, and vibrant, and he had been Harry's everything.

Draco would always be Harry's everything.

The End

So that is the end of _Nineteen Reasons_. It is definitely bittersweet, knowing the end is here, but there might be a few side stories in this universe — there are aspects of the characters and events that I would like to write about, but couldn't in the fic.

Thank you so much to everyone who has read and left me such wonderful, thoughtful comments. Everywhere I have archived this fic, I've received amazing feedback, but I have to give extra special props to the people who left me comments at fan fiction dot net (the site will not show the address if I write it correctly). Once upon a time, long ago, that was the only place I read from, but I stopped, because well… I don't think we need to go into that — those of us who were around back then remember all that went on in 2002 and later at that archive. The comments people left there used to be brief and without much substance, which is more than fine, but with this fic, I have received so many long, well-thought out comments, and it has blown me away, so major kudos to those readers!

With any fic, you are not going to please everyone, and I know there will be those who are disappointed in the ending I chose for this fic. I will not apologize for an unhappy ending, because, to me, it is not that unhappy. It is sad, yes, but we all knew what was coming. I did not add a warning, because, well, that completely ruins the surprise of the fic. Now I know for a fact that some readers are very particular about that and will quit reading fics by authors who do not warn for certain things. I'm quite willing to take that risk.

Thanks again, everyone, for taking this journey with Harry and Draco. As I have mentioned to several of you, I'd been wanting to write this for almost a year, so to finally see the complete fic in print, well, I can't begin to tell you how pleased I am with how it turned out, even if it did take a rather dramatic turn fairly early on — I had anticipated it being a much more light-hearted fic, but my muse showed me a few chapters in that the direction he wanted to take was quite different from my original plan. I didn't argue; my muse is always right. Some of you might have been disappointed with this turn, because you would never have begun reading this fic had you known it would turn like it did. I again do not apologize. When you read a Work-in-progress, that is one of the risks you must accept: you have no idea how it is going to end, and many times, neither does the author. I love to write, but writing fan fic is not ever going to consume my life like writing fiction or non-fiction, thus I write as I go, with a plan, yes, but it can and will deviate, and that is just how I write fan fic. If I am going to post/write a complete fic and plan it out and have everything flow and have no plot holes before letting others read it, then it is most likely going to be something I write professionally.

So this is the end. I am going to miss adding chapters, but as I said earlier, it might not be the end, quite yet, but don't expect anything; time will tell what happens. Thank you, again.

MK Malfoy


End file.
